Something More 2: The Upswing
by corneroffandom
Summary: After winning the tag titles, Del Rio and Ricardo's challenges continue to multiply.


Ricardo Rodriguez' recovery is slow, time inching past almost mockingly for both him and Alberto Del Rio. He at first can't travel, even when he's released from the hospital, because doctors all advise against his boarding a plane due to his pneumothorax. Still determined to make up for the past few months, Del Rio remains with him that week, the two of them holed up in a hotel room while his tag partner keeps an eye on him, helps him whenever he needs it. Considering he spends a lot of the time sleeping, too weak yet to do much the first few days, Alberto has a lot of time to sit and think, when he's not strongly pushing the GMs to agree to give Ricardo all of the time off he needs, without any kind of threat against their tag titles despite the 30 day defense rule.

Once that's all squared away, he takes to sitting with the younger man, watching TV or reading quietly while he sleeps or talking with him, convincing him to eat as much as he can handle whenever he's awake. The former ring announcer still looks surprised whenever he wakes up to find the Mexican aristocrat nearby, but Alberto takes it in stride, knowing that both of them have quite the adjustment period ahead of them.

Finally when, on a follow-up appointment nearly ten days after Ricardo's collapse, they're permitted to attempt air travel, Alberto smiles as Ricardo releases a relieved sigh. "Gracias, Doctor," he says, shaking the man's hand before they leave the office, returning to the hotel that'd been their home for the past week. "Mi amigo, I know that you're probably anxious to return to your apartment..." He hesitates, not sure if this is his overstepping, considering everything. "But for a day or two, I would like... you to stay with me, at my place. Just to ensure that you're alright. If... you don't mind."

Ricardo stares at him for a moment, finally smiling. It looks painful and a little forced, but he nods anyway. "Si, I... I think that's a good idea, if you're sure. Gracias, Mr.- ..." He cuts himself off, remembering just in time what Del Rio had requested of him while in the hospital. "Alberto."

Alberto grins. "Si, I'm sure, mi amigo." He clears his throat. "I... hadn't touched your room since... everything. So you'll be comfortable there."

His tag partner looks honestly surprised at this, his eyes so wide that it almost looks painful. "Really? I thought... you might've..." He stops himself, shaking his head. "No, lo siento. I... don't know what I thought. Never mind."

Alberto watches him for a moment, sighing. "You don't need to censor yourself, Ricardo. We need to be honest with each other, especially now. Did you think I probably... threw everything away... or burnt it?" He shakes his head, smiling wanly. "I honestly think Sofia would've never forgiven me if I had... but no, though sometimes I came close to considering it, I never acted on it. Like a part of me knew it was wrong, that all of the things in there would be needed in the future."

Ricardo smiles faintly, staring down at his hands. "I suppose you foretold something I never even saw as a distant possibility then. I honestly... thought you hated me. I guess we can thank the general managers for this much, at least. If they hadn't..." He struggles, then falls silent, unable to think about those weeks when Del Rio could only look at him with disdain without feeling like he could cry, which only makes his ribs hurt more.

Del Rio stares at him sympathetically. "Si, amigo. I have much to be thankful for right now." He trails a hand over Ricardo's knuckles before collecting their tag belts. "You rest, I'll pack. I'll be glad to see this hotel behind me." He smiles as the ring announcer lays back against the bed for the last time, watching him through hooded eyes before exhaustion overwhelms him and he dozes off, sighing.

After a quick scan of the hotel room by both of them once Ricardo reawakens, they leave, Del Rio carrying both of their bags, despite Ricardo's offer to carry _something_- he gets to carry their titles, but nothing else. The flight back to Florida is long and quiet, Ricardo dozing off and on through the whole thing, only woke up now and again by turbulance that jostles his ribs. When they land, Alberto is thankful for it, hand resting on Ricardo's shoulder as he makes his way gingerly down the aisle to the exit. "Home sweet home," he says with a faint smile as the former ring announcer nods tiredly. "Come, my car is this way," he tells him once he has their bags.

Ricardo's eyes brighten as he catches sight of Del Rio's car, recognizing it as one of the many that he'd taken care of during the years that he'd spent as Alberto's ring announcer. It's different to be a passenger in it and not be expected to actually take responsibility for its care, but a lot of things are different now and he has to smile slightly, looking up at Del Rio's impressive Florida home when they arrive ten minutes later.

"Glad to be back, amigo?" Alberto asks quietly, taking in the look on his face.

"Si," he breathes out. "I am. I've... I've missed this place."

Alberto sighs, feeling even guiltier. "I imagine, mi amigo. Come, Sofia has been quite anxious to see you." As he walks around the car, leaning in to help Ricardo out, his multiple broken ribs still making it difficult for him to move around easily, the former ring announcer clings to him, breaths hitching painfully until he's fully upright once more. "Alright?"

"Si, I'm- I'm ok." But he still keeps a close hold on Del Rio as they approach the house, tentatively stepping on the porch as Alberto supports him, trying to shake his keys loose to unlock the door.

Sofia beats him to it, however, swinging the door open and staring out at them, eyes glistening as she reaches out for Ricardo, smiling. "Senor!" she exclaims, drawing him into a careful hug. "Are you- are you better now?"

He smiles against her hair, nodding. "Si, Sofia. I'm alright." He gingerly pulls away from her and looks at her. "It's good to see you. I've missed you."

She smiles back at him, blinking her tears away. "I have missed you too, Senor. Come, your room is ready for you. You look tired."

Alberto follows them inside, unsurprised when his presence is all but ignored by the housekeeper. Since everything had broken down, she'd done her job, been respectful to him, but things had grown purely professional between them. She'd been almost as close to a friend and confidante for him as Ricardo had been, but once the ring announcer was so unceremoniously and publickly fired, it was as though she figured she was as dispensible, careful not to get too close to the Mexican aristocrat. And he has to say, he doesn't blame her. He hopes now, perhaps, she'll see just how determined he is to fix things and begin to thaw towards him as well.

They follow Ricardo into his room, Alberto behind Sofia as she helps him unpack the few neccessities in his bag, before sitting down next to him on the bed. "Is there anything else you need, Senor?" she asks the ring announcer as he looks around the room, taking it all in like he'd never expected to see it again.

"No," he shakes his head. "But..." He hesitates, licking his lips as he looks from Alberto to Sofia. "Do you... both mind staying for awhile? I don't... feel like sleeping right now."

"Of course," Sofia whispers, resting a hand on his back as she glances towards their employer. He doesn't get to guess at the emotion in her gaze, however, before she turns her focus back on Ricardo. "Whatever you want, Senor."

He glances up as Alberto joins them, sitting carefully on the other side of Ricardo. His smile grows. "Gracias, gracias."

They stay with him, mostly in strained silence, listening to him breathing. He's come far since his hospital stay, to Alberto's relief, and sometimes the Mexican aristocrat likes to just sit and be comforted by the knowledge that he doesn't need machines or tubes to help him breathe normally anymore, although it's clear that each inhale and exhale still hurts due to his ribs. The silence had become so settled that it startles both of them when the former ring announcer does speak. "What's wrong?"

Sofia and Alberto stare at him, the housekeeper blinking uncertainly. "What do you mean, senor? There's nothing wrong...?"

"Yes there is," he insists. "Between you two. I could feel the tension as soon as I got out of the car." He sighs. "Is it because of... this whole situation, Sofia? What... A- Alberto did?" When the housekeeper stares at him, lips tight, he glances at his hands. "I'm ok, honestly. Everything's much better now, Sofia. It's... it's in the past now. I've forgiven him."

She glances at her employer, uncertainty lingering in her dark eyes. "Senor, you have always been more understanding, accepting, than most," she says finally. "I'm not sure-"

But the look on Ricardo's face stops her and she swallows as he squeezes her hand. "I am the one who was harmed the most by the past few months," he tells her softly. "If I can forgive, it should be much easier for you to as well."

She sighs. "I understand how you feel, senor, it's just..." She glances uncomfortably at her employer. "If he can treat you so callously, who's to say he would not treat me the same should he lose his temper with me as well?"

Del Rio looks far from comfortable with the way this conversation has gone but he does speak up here. "I know I'm far from a fair, kind employer, but I promise, Sofia, to be better... try harder. As both employer and tag partner." He stares at her, eyes dark with guilt. "Ricardo has given me a second chance, and I'm asking you humbly now to try to do the same. Por favor..."

She looks between the two men before her shoulders slump slightly. "Fine," she murmurs. "I'll try." When their faces light up, she looks solemnly at Alberto. "But if you do anything like that again, I can't remain here..."

Alberto nods. "Si, I understand. But I won't, I swear to you both." He looks from Ricardo to Sofia, relieved when they both nod in acceptance, his lips twitching up into a soft smile. "Gracias, gracias. I don't deserve your faith... but I will try to, from now on."

Relieved that this seems to be settled for the moment, Ricardo fights off a yawn with a sheepish look in his eye as both Sofia and Alberto notice. "Eh..."

Alberto and Sofia stand as one, the Mexican aristocrat resting a hand on his tag partner's shoulder. "Someone needs sleep, it seems. Do you feel like resting now?" When Ricardo nods, he smiles. "Alright then. You get some rest and we'll see you in the morning, mi amigo."

"Mm hmm," Ricardo sighs, sinking under his sheets as Sofia leans over to shut the light off, smiling down at him as he gets comfortable. "Buenas noches."

"Buenas noches," both Alberto and Sofia say at once, exchanging an awkward glance as they head for the door to let him have his rest. Del Rio pauses at the door and stares at his housekeeper, blinking slowly. "Buenas noches, Sofia," he says softly, wondering how she'll respond.

"Buenas noches, Senor," she responds after a moment and, although it sounds a little formal, it's far from the frosty response he'd been receiving from her. He smiles faintly as she turns quietly and walks towards her bedroom, careful to make as little noise as possible in lieu of the former ring announcer.

Everything seeming to click in place finally, he walks into his own bedroom across from Ricardo's and pushes the door shut quietly, leaning against the wood. "Gracias," he mumbles to thin air, sighing softly.

The next day, Ricardo squirms and mumbles as sun bites into his room, waking him up slowly. He blinks and stretches, smiling faintly at the familiar feel of the soft sheets rasping against his feet. He hums and buries his face in his pillow, yawning before he pulls himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the by now expected pull in his ribcage. He's still leaning against the headboard, blinking away the lingering exhaustion, when his door is carefully pulled open. Looking up, he smiles to find his tag partner peeking in at him, seeming surprised to find him awake. "Hola, Alberto," he offers.

Alberto chuckles warmly and inches into the room, staring down at the younger man. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not," he confesses, sitting on the edge of the bed and facing Ricardo. "At least you took the decision out of my hands." He looks thoughtful, a little tense, and Ricardo picks up on it immediately, still well-versed in the Mexican aristocrat's moods despite the weeks they'd spent barely talking.

"A- Alberto? Is something wrong?" he asks warily, frowning as Alberto glances up, their eyes locking.

"I've just gotten off of the phone with the general managers," he admits, Ricardo's expression darkening. It had been the general managers who'd ultimately placed them in the forced tag team, put all of this in motion. And although it had worked out in the end, neither man had been pleased through the duration, things only coming to a head when Ricardo's injuries had become too much, waking Alberto up to what he'd been doing the past few months to those around him.

"What did they want?" he asks, lips thin as he presses his fingers together anxiously.

Alberto rests a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease his anxiety. He's not thrilled with the decision either, however, and he's sure it shows as he takes a breath. "Team Hell No is insisting they get their rematch within the next week," he explains. "On Raw, to be exact."

Ricardo stares at him, swallowing. "I see." He stares down at his still healing body and shakes his head. "What if the trainer won't clear me? I'm on his last nerve anyway, by now, I'm sure. What if... they strip us of the titles?"

Those worries had also passed through Del Rio's mind but he shakes his head, not wanting Ricardo to stress unneccessarily. "It'll work out, amigo. Just rest and get your strength up, we'll deal with the trainer when the time comes. You'll be much stronger by the time we have to leave."

"I hope so," the former ring announcer sighs, smiling wanly as Alberto adjusts the sheets around him, smoothing them down. "I should get up."

"Why?" Del Rio wonders, frowning up at him. "Is there something you need done? Sofia or I can-"

"No, I just-" He grimaces. "I don't want to overstay my welcome. I should probably get ready to go back to my apartment..."

Alberto stares at him, once more realizing just how much damage he'd done, physically and emotionally to the man before him. "No," he says finally. "You're not overstaying your welcome. I asked you to stay, and that invitation is still valid. I want to make sure you're ok, amigo. You've been through so much due to my thoughtlessness, it's the least I can do."

Ricardo stares at him, surprised by his sincerity. "A- alright. If you're sure."

"I am." Standing, he turns for the door. "I believe Sofia should have breakfast prepared, I'll bring you a plate." He pauses, looking over his shoulder before the younger man can even open his mouth in protest. "No trying to stop me, Ricardo. I'm serious about you resting, mi amigo. I can do this much. Don't move, si?"

Sighing, he nods. "Si, fine..." As he picks at the bedding, Alberto continues out of the room. The whole situation is bizarre, Ricardo unsure if he'll ever adjust to Alberto treating him so well, like they're... equals, or at least friends. There had been times when he was his ring announcer that he hadn't treated him this well, and it's more than a little confusing. He sighs and shuts his eyes, leaning back against the pillows. _I know I should be happy, but..._ He winces, remembering the night that Del Rio had fired him, kicked him in the head, and left him to suffer through concussion and broken ribs alone. "Ay..."

By the time Alberto returns, he's forced himself to think of something- anything else, and it must not show on his face, because Del Rio simply sets two plates down on the table next to the bed, Sofia following behind him with tall glasses of orange juice. "If you don't mind, amigo, I'd like to eat with you... keep you company," he suggests quietly, smiling at the housekeeper as she places the drinks next to the food. "Gracias, Sofia."

She smiles vaguely at her employer before leaving the room, Ricardo blinking up at him. "You really would... want to?" he wonders, surprised. It had been one thing when they'd had meals together while stuck in Ohio, Ricardo unable to travel. Alberto was home, now, and yet... "But you probably have so many things to do-"

"And on the top of that list is eating breakfast here with you, amigo." Alberto hands him one of the glasses, smiling at him. "We're tag partners now, Ricardo. I know I did a great many things over the past few months to ruin our possibly being a cohesive, strong team, and I'd like to try to correct that. Starting now."

He blinks a few times, wanting nothing more than to believe that Del Rio means it- that it'll last... Finally he nods, sipping some of the juice. "I would like that too," he admits, staring down into the glass. When he looks up, Alberto is still smiling, and he feels himself beginning to as well.

That Monday, Alberto guides Ricardo into the arena for Raw, staring suspiciously from person to person as they walk by. Some people glance over interestedly until they realize that Del Rio's glower is aimed at them, turning their attention back to their own work. "Are you doing alright, mi amigo?" he asks as he leans over to open the locker room assigned for the tag team champions, relieved that they don't have to share the main locker room with the rest of the roster as had been done the past few months when he wasn't in favor with the General Managers.

"Si," Ricardo nods, his relief visible as he enters the room and sinks gingerly down onto a nearby bench, hand immediately going for his still painful midsection. Alberto watches sympathetically as he pulls his dress shirt off, reaching for one of Del Rio's merch shirts. It's only when he realizes that his former employer is still watching him that he glances down too, subtle bruising still visible along his ribcage and chest. A faint scar from the chest tube that had been inserted when his lung collapsed is also visible among all of the discoloration and he swallows, looking up at the other man. "Lo siento, I-"

"No, no," Del Rio shakes his head as he scrambles to put a merch shirt on, his dark eyes still locked on the other man's abused upper body. "You have nothing to apologize for." He sighs and ventures closer, frowning. "Are you sure you'll be alright for tonight, amigo?"

"I will," he insists. "I have to be, si?" He takes a breath, staring down at the floor. "I don't want to worry you. I'm worried enough for the both of us. But I trust, now that we'll be a proper team, everything will be fine."

Alberto nods, trying not to react to the subtle tone of doubt in his voice. It hurts to hear it, after all of this, but he knows he deserves it- needs to earn back Ricardo's trust, and Sofia's, and if he's going to be honest, his own. He's seen tapes of those weeks since Ricardo's injury, still unsure how the man during those matches could be _him,_ how he had fallen so far, so fast. "Si, of course."

The trainer is still waiting for them, however, and Alberto follows his tag partner into the office, sitting on a couch across the room as he goes over what the doctors have said regarding Ricardo's condition and performing some follow up exams of his own. It's clear he's far from pleased with either of them, his friendly demeaner all but gone as he only speaks to order Ricardo how to hold himself, which way to move as he presses against his ribs and checks his breathing. Once he finishes, he sits back and stares from man to man, lips thin and dry. Alberto is fighting not to speak up, demand answers, when he reaches over and grabs the by now overly familiar tape, grimly wrapping it around Ricardo's midsection. As soon as he finishes, he slaps the roll of tape on the counter and points to Ricardo. "If you refuse to keep them wrapped after this, I'm recusing myself from your care. Understand?"

The former announcer nods jerkily, his lips pressed tightly together until the man double checks the tape before storming off, almost out of the door before Ricardo can speak up. "I'm sorry about everything. I should've listened to you. I will from now on, I promise."

The man doesn't respond, though his step does slow, quiet as he continues out into the hallway. Ricardo turns troubled eyes towards his former employer, who merely smiles at him and pats his arm. "Are you ready to go prepare for the match then?"

"Si, of course," he nods, hopping gingerly off of the cot and following Del Rio out of the office. As they walk side by side through the hallway back towards their locker room, it's hard to ignore the whispers and stares that follow them as they go, Ricardo shifting anxiously as Alberto holds the door open for him. "So many people are gossiping about us now," he says as soon as the door is shut securely behind him.

"Of course," Del Rio shrugs, immediately turning to his ring gear and staring at it with a thoughtful frown. He glances out of the corner of his eye towards Ricardo, wondering not for the first time the best way to strategize for the match looming. "Mi amigo, let's discuss the match. How do you think we should approach Team Hell No?"

"Oh, eh, that's your area of expertise, Alberto. You're always much better at choosing strategy than myself. What do you think we should do?" Ricardo asks anxiously, eyes darting around until coming to rest on Alberto's frowning face, unsettled by his silence. "Did I... say something wrong?"

"No, it's just... Ricardo, we're a team now. I want your input, any ideas you may have. Things aren't going to be like they were before, I want us to work together at all stages, as much as you feel up to, anyway. So please, any ideas you may have are welcome."

Blinking in surprise, the former ring announcer nods. "Si, alright. Um..." He fumbles with his hands and sighs. "I don't know, I'm going to be a liability because of my ribs... especially considering Daniel Bryan's kicks..."

As they discuss it thoroughly, trying to choose the best course of action, Del Rio has to smile: It feels like old times, before he had grown so angry and horrible, back when he and Ricardo could sit for hours and watch tapes of his opponents to figure out their weaknesses, potential downfalls. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until this moment, wonders if the former ring announcer had also.

When it's time to go down for their match, Ricardo shifts anxiously, adjusting his ring gear, while Alberto stands by the gorilla position. "Whose entrance music?" one of the techs ask boredly, barely looking up at the two men.

"Ricardo's," his former employer says simply, noticing out of the corner of his eye as Ricardo's jaw drops, clearly not expecting _that_. He smiles and rests a hand between the younger man's shoulder blades. "Are you ready, mi amigo?"

"Si, I think so," he nods, taking a breath before his music is cued and they walk side by side out to the ring, the visible surprise in the audience's eyes as Alberto stays with Ricardo, watching him closely as he enters the ring carefully, his ribs still throbbing at the simple motion of ducking to enter between the ring ropes.

Upon joining him inside, Del Rio leans closer to him to be heard over the crowd. "Are you ok?"

"Si, it's just-" Before he can finish talking, Kane's flame entrance goes off, causing him to jerk in surprise, more burning pain running down his ribcage as he gasps and grips the area, biting his lip. "Ow."

Alberto supports him, squeezing his arm. "Take a breath, Ricardo. It's ok." As he relaxes, his former employer frowns at him. "I don't know-"

"I'll be fine," he says determinedly. "We are _not_ forfeiting, Alberto. I can't... can't accept that. I trust in our strategy."

"Alright, amigo. Alright. Just relax." Del Rio sighs, examining their opponents with an unhappy, shrewd stare. "When you need a tag, get it, understand? I will do what I can to help should they start to overwhelm you."

Ricardo nods, relieved. "Gracias, I will." When Kane and Daniel enter the ring, waiting for the referee to call for the bell, Alberto pats him on the arm. "Are you starting?" Alberto merely nods, already falling back into the determined, pointed mindset he contains for each match, and the former ring announcer immediately goes to the apron, gripping the tag rope to wait for any potential tag his partner may need to make during this match.

Kane stands on the other side of the ring, adjusting his glove with a sneer as he looks past Del Rio to eye Ricardo, his amusement not hidden by his mask as the younger man shudders in discomfort, blinking when Alberto steps between them, yelling at Kane. "Look at me, not him, perro!"

_This_ does attract the big red monster's attention as he glowers over at the Mexican aristocrat, lunging out with a punch. As Del Rio dodges it and answers with a kick of his own, Ricardo releases a shuddering breath, eyes widening as they continue going back and forth with punches and kicks, Alberto barely wiggling out of a chokeslam attempt just to get laid out when he fails at snaking around Kane's arm and wrenching back into his submission.

Daniel and Ricardo glare at each other from across the ring, both calling out encouragement or support for their individual tag partners, when Alberto wiggles free and lands another solid kick on Kane's skull, the sound of impact only muffled a bit thanks to his mask. As he lunges forward and tags in Ricardo, Kane rolls towards Daniel and accepts the tag as well, the two larger men leaving the ring to let their younger tag partners go at it.

Alberto's words fresh in Ricardo's mind, he tries to keep a watch out for the brutal kicks from the tenacious superstar, lips pressed tightly together as he sidesteps a punch, and then another. Daniel starts to get frustrated and Ricardo tries to take the upperhand, striking out with a punch of his own that just grazes Daniel's face. He turns to try to hit another, just to find himself trapped as Daniel uses the split second of Ricardo shifting position to kick him harshly in the midsection, downing him immediately as he grips at the taped portion of his body. "Hey!" he hears his former employer scream distantly, eyes fluttering in his direction.

The ref loses control from there, Kane and Del Rio both in the ring, Daniel trying to keep up offense against Ricardo but unable to get around the brawling men as the referee tries to separate them, get them back in their corners. Once Kane's backed off at Daniel's frustrated yell, Del Rio turns and grabs Ricardo under the arms, helping him over to their corner before returning to the apron and clutching the tag rope, leaning over as far as possible to slap Ricardo on the arm, trying to keep an eye on him as he faces off with Daniel, face dark with anger. "Idiota, I will make you pay," he declares to the bearded man, pacing back and forth as Ricardo collapses against the second rope on the outside, breathing so heavily that he can hear it over the buzz of the crowd.

"Prove it," Bryan orders him, crouching down in wait with one arm outstretched as Del Rio, squinting warningly at him, lunges out of the corner and rushes him, aiming for a kick to the head just to get wrapped up in an attempt at the Yes Lock.

But he's left himself vulnerable and Del Rio rolls until he gets his leg up, snapping his knee against the back of Daniel's head, again and again until he releases the hold, staggering away from his opponent and allowing Alberto to drop back towards his corner. Ricardo is still kneeling down and they stare at each other, trying to regroup. "Are you alright?"

"Si," he breathes out. "Do you need tagged out?"

"No, amigo, I'll be ok for a little while longer. Just relax. If I need you, I'll let you know, I promise." He makes his way back to his feet and turns to find Kane had tagged himself back in, his dark eyes narrowing as they examine each other. Kane sneers and rushes forward, clipping Del Rio with a punch that sends him staggering in front of Ricardo, who peers up at him fearfully. Refusing another tag, Alberto rushes forward and kicks at Kane's knees, causing the much larger man to back up awkwardly.

Daniel reaches out for a tag but Del Rio connects with another kick to Kane's skull this time, sending him away from his corner, Alberto immediately on him viciously, punching and kicking him alternatively until he steps back, not wanting to risk a disqualification. He's just attempted to lock in the armbar when he notices a flash of red- Bryan ducks into the ring, trying to assist his partner but then black streaks across Del Rio's gaze as Ricardo intercepts him, clotheslining him onto the apron. Daniel is trying to work around the ropes to attack him when Ricardo roundhouse kicks him in the head, sending him to the floor.

Del Rio's just looked up at him, impressed, when Kane takes advantage of the slight distraction, fights out of the armbar and slams him down hard on his back, inches from Ricardo. He writhes for a moment before the large man covers him, trying for an easy victory, when Ricardo regains his footing and kicks Kane in the skull similarly to how he had Daniel only seconds earlier. Though it breaks up the cover, it also puts Kane's focus on the former ring announcer, and Ricardo slumps into the corner, a pleading look on his face as he tries to guard his ribs with one hand, the other raised in a desperately begging motion towards the sneering monster.

However, Kane's distraction gives Alberto time to recover and, as he approaches Ricardo, Del Rio struggles to one knee, then to his feet, rushing forward and snapping off a brutal enziguiri that sends Kane off balanced, opening him up for a dropkick from Ricardo, sending him right into a waiting Del Rio, who twists around him into an unbreakable armbar, wrenching back again and again until finally he can't withstand it any longer, tapping desperately.

Ricardo, overwhelmed in relief at their winning, slumps into the corner and struggles to catch his breath, grinning when Alberto joins him, handing over his title belt. "Gracias," he forces out, resting a hand on the bronze plate with his eyes closed.

"Are you alright?" his former employer demands, trying to check his ribs. He stops abruptly when Ricardo grasps his wrist, squeezing slightly. "Ricardo?"

"Hurts," he breathes out. "Just give me a minute, por favor, Alberto."

"Alright," he whispers, watching him as he collects himself slowly, even finds his way to his feet with some help from the ring ropes behind him and Alberto's steadying grip on his shoulder. "Got it?"

"Si," he grounds out. "I'm ok."

Alberto squeezes his arm. "Of course you are, mi amigo." He stares warningly at the still lurking Team Hell No as they talk angrily on the other side of the ring. They take their titles, Ricardo gripping his wearily as Alberto motions to the trainer to come check on his tag partner, unsure what to think about his somewhat labored breathing.

"Relax," the trainer urges him, eyebrows furrowed as he feels along Ricardo's ribcage. Ricardo groans, struggling to follow the rest of his instructions as he listens to his breathing and tests his lung capacity. Alberto watches closely, squeezing his neck lightly when the younger man grimaces.

"Ok," the trainer finally says, completing the exam. "You seem to be ok. Let's get him backstage and I'll do a more thorough examination there."

Ricardo breathes in sharply as Alberto and the trainer help him out of the ring, clinging to Alberto desperately. "Ay," he whimpers as fresh pain pools in his ribcage.

Del Rio hates seeing how much pain he's still in, hooking his arm around his shoulders. "Lean on me, mi amigo," he urges him lowly. "You're going to be ok. Just... trust me." It's a cruel thing to encourage, considering what he had done to shatter his trust only a few months ago, but Ricardo nods weakly anyway.

"I do, you know," he mumbles, barely aware of just how this soothes some of the older man's guilt. He smiles faintly as his tag partner helps him up the ramp to the back, easing him onto a cot for the trainer to look him over more thoroughly. He hisses at each prod against his ribs, head spinning at the dull, nonstop pain, but the examination is concluded quickly, Alberto squeezing his shoulder.

"His prior injuries are perhaps a little aggravated, but with rest and some relaxation, he should be alright." The trainer looks at them grimly. "I'm advising against his wrestling for awhile, however. Keep up with his follow up doctor appointments, when they clear him to compete, I'll check him over once more and we'll see if I agree that he's ready."

Del Rio nods grimly. "Si, of course." Leaning closer to Ricardo, he rests his hand between his shoulder blades. "Come, mi amigo. Let's get you back to the hotel, let you rest before the flight."

The former ring announcer nods and struggles off of the cot with some help from his tag partner, gingerly resting a hand on his still throbbing rib cage, yet again feeling the scar left over from the emergency surgery required when his lung had collapsed through his gear. "Alright," he agrees quietly, allowing himself to be led to their locker room, where he changes into his street clothes, Del Rio doing the same before shouldering their bags and walking slowly to the parking lot, Ricardo's relief at sinking into the passenger seat doubling once they arrive at the hotel and he is able to lay down, let the painkillers take over and send him into a peaceful sleep as Alberto watches over him with a grim smile, wondering how long he'll have to go without his tag partner.

Mid-December, Ricardo's finally cleared by both WWE doctors and his personal physician, Alberto relieved as more of his guilt eases, the two of them walking side by side into the arena for TLC, their title belts warm against their shoulders. "Welcome back, amigo," he smiles as he holds the door open for his former ring announcer, allowing him to walk in first.

Ricardo blinks a time or two before venturing inside, turning to grin at his tag partner. "Gracias, S- Alberto," he corrects himself, still tripping sometimes over calling the man by his first name after so long of having to be somewhat professional. Del Rio smiles at him and rests a hand on his shoulder, leading him through the halls to their locker room. Time passes slowly leading up to the PPV itself, neither man having anything scheduled as Ricardo's injury hadn't given them time to involve themselves in any feuds or led to any challengers approaching them. After they explore catering and get what there looks appetizing to eat, Alberto goes back to the locker room but Ricardo opts to wander the arena, enjoying watching people bustling around and doing various things as the PPV continues on.

He's about to turn around and rejoin his tag partner when he hears the unmistakeable voice of Heath Slater coming from a nearby monitor, mocking the Spanish announcers and his brows furrow, hands clenching into a fist as he walks to gorilla and out to the ring, only just noticing as the crowd begins to cheer at the first sight of him they've had in weeks. He gets between 3MB and Marcelo and Carlos, trying not to feel too anxious over how, his very first night back, he's facing off against three men. Heath laughs at him, pointing and saying something to Drew, who is also laughing, when Ricardo impulsively punches the lead singer, sending him staggering back. _This_ wipes the grins off of their obnoxious faces and they surround the younger man, punching and kicking him as they force him towards the ring, where The Miz is just standing, watching all of this with a blank look on his face, when the audience begins to react in a mixed fashion- some cheers, some boos, but whatever it is draws 3MB away from Ricardo as he kneels on the apron, panting for breath and wincing.

Once he can focus, he realizes that it's Alberto, come to his rescue, and he watches dimly as they begin to overpower him as well. He struggles to get back to his feet, to help, when a hand appears in front of his face. He grabs it without thought, blinking when he realizes that it's Miz who's just helped him up. "Come on," he tells the younger man before rushing into the melee, Ricardo joining him after a moment of shock, the three of them dispatching each member of 3MB over the top rope, Alberto nodding at Miz in brusque thankfulness as he claps Ricardo on the shoulder and searches his face with a worried frown.

"I'm ok," he says, both men startled when Miz issues a challenge to the angry men on the outside of the ring- a 6 man match with the three of them facing off against the three of them. Alberto doesn't seem pleased with the idea but Ricardo rests a hand on his arm, distracting him. "It'll be fine. I'm fine. You arrived before they did anything serious to me. Don't worry, por favor."

He takes a breath before nodding. "Alright, mi amigo. You're going to be ready for this match then?" He glances at Miz out of the corner of his eye for not really consulting with either of them before setting the challenge, but what's done is done. When Ricardo confirms, Alberto merely shakes his head and follows his tag partner out of the ring, the two of them walking side by side backstage. Their match is set before the end of the show, and Del Rio is glad for it as it gives Ricardo time to relax after the earlier encounter with 3MB, and it gives the three of them to try to agree on a strategy. He and Miz have never gotten along well in the past, and Miz and Ricardo have had their own issues, but they're forced to work together- at least for tonight- so they suck it up and do what they have to do.

When the match starts, Mike and Alberto hold their own against Drew and Heath, and when Jinder gets tagged in, Alberto continues to beat him down before looking over his shoulder at his watchful tag partner, eyes glinting as he smiles slightly, dragging the limp form of Mahal over to his corner, where he tags Ricardo in. The younger man looks surprised as he takes over, locking in a rearnaked choke to further weaken the other man while he thinks about what offense to chain together to wrap this up. When Heath and Drew recover enough to slam their way into the ring, drawing Mike and Alberto out of their corner and bringing about a brawl that has the referee beyond frustrated, Ricardo knows then that it's time to wrap everything up. He breaks the hold and kicks Jinder in the back before glancing over at Alberto for a moment, not sure how he'd feel about this- though he's used the move before- and tangles him up in the armbar, arching back violently on his arm, listening until the Punjab taps desperately, breaking the hold and looking out in surprise at the crowd's reaction to his victory, beaming as Alberto joins him and grins down at him. "Congratulations, mi amigo," he tells him quietly once he stands, patting him on the back. "Your armbar _almost_ looked as good as mine."

Ricardo chuckles, not bothered by the remark as he takes his tag belt from the referee. "Gracias, Alberto." The three of them stand at the ropes, watching as 3MB stumbles away, uncoordinated and angry as they try to support each other up the length of the ramp.

On Raw, there's a rematch which Alberto, Ricardo and Mike once more walk away the winners of, but whatever happiness comes from that is shortlived as Ricardo, waiting for the bus that will take them all to the next town for Tuesday's special edition of Smackdown, hears footsteps behind him and turns- just to come face to face with The Shield's Roman Reigns. He sneers down at him before Ricardo realizes that Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins are there too, on either side of him. Before he's sure what's going on, Roman grabs him and whips him into the nearby wall, sending him crumpling back to the floor as he instinctively grips his tag title, gasping in pain when the three men begin kicking him down even further, Roman leaning into his line of sight as he fights to keep his eyes open. The brutal man sneers down at him, his dark hair wet and stringy as their eyes lock. "Those titles are gonna be ours soon, boy," he tells him lowly, voice dark with intensity and determination as he stares at the bronze belt that he's hugging tighter to him. "This is just the beginning." Two fists appear in front of him and Roman slowly joins his to theirs. "Believe in The Shield."

It's the last thing Ricardo hears as another boot impacts with his skull, sending him right to numb, bitter unconsciousness.

Alberto is sitting in their locker room, staring at the bronze belt glistening off of his shoulder, pondering how he had worked for so long to win the World title, just to wind up here- tag champions with his best friend. He still wants the World title, but here, now, co-champions with Ricardo, he finds he likes that as well. Realizing just how much time has passed without word from Ricardo, he checks a clock, surprised to find that it's almost time to leave, wondering why Ricardo hasn't texted him yet. He imagines that the bus is here to pick them all up, but shrugs before placing his title belt safely in his duffel bag and lifting it and Ricardo's to go find the younger man so they can leave already. He's almost at the exit when he hears excited chatter of the trainer and doctor, his heart skipping a beat as he approaches the scene. His worst suspicions are confirmed as he arrives just to find them all hovering around Ricardo, referees working to keep nosy gawkers back. He thoughtlessly drops their bags and rushes for his friend, remembering how he had gone down when his lung had collapsed, brushing the men surrounding him aside. "Ricardo? Ricardo?" he repeats, gripping him by the collar of his shirt and staring into his slack, pale face. "What happened?!" he demands, glaring around at the trainer.

"The Shield was seen leaving this area, the best we can piece together is that they beat him down," the trainer says grimly. Before Alberto can ask, he holds a hand up. "His ribs and lungs seem fine- he may have a concussion, however. It looks like they slammed him into the wall, and perhaps kicked him a few times." Alberto looks up blankly, finding what looks like a piece of Ricardo's shirt stuck in the slats of the metal shutters, his face darkening as he pieces it all together.

"Mi amigo," he calls out, immediately letting everything else go as he leans over and cups his tag partner's face, searching his expression for any sort of reaction. "Wake up. Wake up, mi amigo. We have to get out of here. Come now." Ricardo stirs, drawn to his voice, and Alberto smiles as his eyes slowly flutter. "That's it. Open your eyes..." Finally he blinks them open and they stare at each other for a moment, Ricardo reaching up to wrap his fingers around Alberto's wrist. "You're going to be ok. Let's go home after the trainer examines you, hm?" The younger man looks confused, like he wants to argue against it, but Alberto shakes his head. "You may have a concussion, Ricardo. I'm not going to allow you to be a further target of The Shield."

This brings about a different kind of fear to Ricardo's eyes and Alberto grows more worried, about to ask, when he leans up, staring desperately into Alberto's eyes. "The Shield- they want our tag titles," he chokes out, shaking his head desperately and ignoring as his headache ratchets up at the repetitive movement. "Alberto-"

"It's fine, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he soothes him. "Just breathe, mi amigo. Let the trainer look you over, we'll discuss this later." The younger man looks far from pleased at this but he acquiesces, breathing heavily between answering questions. He isn't that confused, or dizzy, just in a fair amount of pain so the trainer works on the assumption that he's _not_ concussed, but still needs an IMPACT test run in a day or two to make sure. "May we leave now then?" Alberto demands once he vocalizes this. The trainer agrees after another quick look at Ricardo. Between the two of them, they help Ricardo up to his feet and Del Rio leads him away from the bus, collecting their bags from the floor and brushing off the tech in charge of handling the rentals before he can get to theirs. "Come, mi amigo, let's go rest at the hotel, and then we'll go home," he urges him, hating how commonplace this kind of thing still is- Ricardo getting injured had always been a frequent situation when he'd worked for him, and he had hoped that would change now that they were a tag team, but instead... he's got a target on his back for a whole other reason.

Ricardo looks utterly miserable in the car, clinging to his belt like it will disappear at any time, and Alberto sighs, starting the car up. "Alberto," he mutters. "I'm scared."

Del Rio glances over at him, shaking his head. "Don't be, mi amigo. We're a team. Those perros will not touch those titles, I promise you." Ricardo releases a faint breath before nodding, his eyes shut as he loosens his grip on the cool leather of the belt, Alberto turning his attention back to the road, hoping that he can uphold this promise, at least for awhile.

After a few days rest at home, Sofia once more tsking over Ricardo's injuries with gentle hands and sad glances, during which it's confirmed that he's not concussed, just sore, the tag team champions are relieved to return to Raw, even if Alberto gets into some trouble over Santa and loses to Cena again. In the long run, it doesn't affect their holidays, until, that is, Big Show- who had defeated Dolph Ziggler while Del Rio was distracted helping Ricardo recover- is placed in an impromptu match for his World Heavyweight Title, Santino Marella the unlucky person to be selected to be his opponent... until he injures himself attempting a Brogue Kick, which requires a new challenger. The General Managers, in their infinite wisdom, decide to draw another name from the same machine used to pass out numbers to each Royal Rumble entrant, and they draw... Ricardo.

Alberto watches blankly as his best friend is brought into the office, Big Show's laughter grating at him only turning into pure hatred as he stares down at the former ring announcer for a moment before swinging out with a KO punch that immediately sends the younger man to the floor, his teeth grit together so rigidly that he thinks he can hear his jaw protesting. Not that it matters as he rushes out of the locker room and storms to the general manager's office, hoping that he runs into Big Show to make the man pay- something, anything, but no. He's nowhere to be seen, and when Alberto arrives at the office, it's empty and he narrows his eyes at the room before lunging out with a kick that sends the rumble draw machine spinning before it snaps off its axis, rolling somewhere else in the room. He hopes it trips Booker or Teddy- or both- up, before storming off to the trainer's office.

His tag partner is once more unresponsive, though his eyes are open, hands twitching helplessly against his chest. Alberto swallows as he stares down at him, patting his hands and muttering in distressed Spanish before turning angrily towards the GMs. "I want to compete against Big Show," he tells them angrily. "Make it happen." When the startled men agree, he leans back over his best friend. "I'll win this match in your honor, mi amigo. Just hang on, I'll be back soon, I promise you." But he doesn't win- not in the way he would like. It goes by countout when Big Show leaves the ring just to be stopped by Sheamus, and the locker room all come out to force Big Show back into the ring, where he's met by first Del Rio's enziguiri and then Sheamus' brogue kick.

It feels more than weird to have a similar goal as the others outside of the ring, Alberto so used to handling things on his own or with Ricardo. But for a brief moment there's actual cohesiveness among all of them and he's surprised how much he likes it. Though one very important person is missing from all of this and he quickly takes leave of them all, going back to check on his poor tag partner. Ricardo's eyes thankfully are closed now and he seems to be resting more comfortably, a blanket covering him from the chest down. Alberto's lips twitch as he adjusts it so it covers Ricardo more fully, needing to do_ something_ with his hands as he waits for the younger man to awaken. "First The Shield, now Big Show. Mi pobre amigo."

He's not entirely sure how much time has passed when, finally, Ricardo shifts and sighs, tilting his head towards Alberto. The Mexican aristocrat smiles wanly and leans closer, watching as he blinks his eyes open, still looking more than a little dazed. "Alberto?" he mutters through dry lips, eyes dully tracking Alberto as he nods, resting a cool hand on Ricardo's forehead. "Big Show- my match-"

"No, no, shhhh, mi amigo. Your match was canceled, I took your place after he knocked you out." Ricardo continues staring and he winces, hoping that this night isn't where Ricardo will be diagnosed with a concussion. Shaking these thoughts away, he smiles wearily and resumes explaining. "I won by countout, mi amigo, but the locker room came out to assist me and we were able to leave that perro unconscious in the middle of the ring, so it wasn't quite the revenge I wanted to get for you, but it'll do for now."

He looks a little comforted by this. "I'm just glad you're alright, Alberto," he mutters, grimacing slightly as he tries to sit up. With some help from Alberto, he finally makes it and lets his legs hang over the side of the cot, breathing heavily as he readjusts to this position, Del Rio watching him closely.

"Maybe I should get the trainer-"

"No," he breathes out, reaching out for his best friend. "I just... I want to leave... can we, por favor?"

Alberto hesitates, reluctant, but finally concedes. "Very well, Ricardo. Let's go." He keeps a close eye on him the rest of the night, even when he should be asleep, but the younger man seems to be fine, waking up more alert the next morning, to Alberto's extreme relief. He turns his attention back to Big Show, far from finished with the large man. He has no doubt that, likewise, Big Show is far from over with messing with either of them, after the humilation he suffered at the end of Smackdown... it leaves Alberto very unsettled.

Sure enough, on Raw that coming Monday, after they've wrestled two-thirds of 3MB and came out victorious, yet again, Big Show corners Ricardo once more and lets his intention on having their match after all- the one he had had canceled by knocking Ricardo out on Smackdown- known, Alberto grimacing as he watches this on a monitor, quickly searching out his tag partner. Stares at him as he tries to judge Ricardo's state of mind. The younger man seems grim and nervous but determined to see this through, for them both, so he smiles and pats him on the arm, trying not to let his own foreboding show. "Do it in style then, mi hermano," he tells him quietly, giving him his scarf and the keys to his car, smiling as the younger man's eyes brighten in amazement.

"Gracias, Alberto," he tells him, the two men walking side by side to the area where his car is held so Ricardo can prepare for the second match he'll be competing in this evening. "I... I feel more confident knowing you'll be out there with me."

Alberto only wishes he could share in his certainty, but his worry for Ricardo lasts as the match begins and Big Show seems to only be toying with the younger man, tearing his clothes and leaving him floundering as he tries and fails at getting any substantial offense against the much larger athlete. Alberto watches until it's just all too much, Ricardo struggling just to stand- Big Show preparing for another KO punch... so he rushes the ring and rescues his friend, knocking Big Show loopy with his kicks and strikes until collecting Ricardo and dragging him to safety, relieved that, even if his tag partner _couldn't_ walk out victorious, at least he's walking out at all.

"Lo siento," he breathes, gripping Alberto's shirt as he guides him through the halls, surprised that he's conscious at all. "I vowed to win... and I failed, again..."

"Wait, wait," he says quietly, leaning Ricardo against a nearby wall and cupping his face, looking deep in his eyes. "Listen to me, mi amigo. You _didn't_ fail, alright? We won against 3MB tonight, thanks largely in part to you, and you did quite well considering all of your recent injuries. When even I at 100% have difficulty with Big Show, you have nothing to feel ashamed of. You survived, that's the important thing."

"Thanks to you," he sighs tiredly, leaning his head against the cool concrete wall. "Muchas gracias..."

"My pleasure, mi amigo. Now come, let's let the trainer look you over, ensure that that perro didn't hurt you." As he supports Ricardo the rest of the way, the former ring announcer smiles slightly, relieved to have his best friend by his side once more.

When they arrive for Smackdown that week, they and Big Show receive individual warnings that they are not to approach each other until the General Managers agree on what to do with the World title situation, and if any of them do, they will be suspended or worse. Which is just as well, because as it happens, the Rhodes Scholars make their intentions known: They want a tag title match at the Royal Rumble, Sandow sneering in a way that makes Del Rio's blood boil all over again. Ricardo glances at him and their eyes lock, Alberto wavering between wanting to teach the annoying men a lesson for daring to challenge them when they know they have much more important matters at hand, and trying to decide if it's even worth their time, especially when he has the World title situation to consider. But in the end, the 30 day stipulation is still hanging over their heads and he knows he can't ignore it, or risk being stripped of the titles... which wouldn't be fair to Ricardo, who's already been through so much because of his involvement with Alberto.

"Very well, perros," he snaps at them. "You asked for it. Come the Royal Rumble, we will gladly teach you a lesson." He smirks as Ricardo's face lights up at the prospect of having another tag match with his former employer, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.

The General Managers spend a few days conferring over everything, Alberto and Ricardo taking another night off that Raw for the younger man to rest after the last few weeks of KO punches and generally being roughed up by Big Show, just to return at the following Smackdown to hear their decision. Which is straightforward enough: Alberto would receive a World title opportunity tonight... in a last man standing match against Big Show. It's unexpected and incredible news all at the same time. He grins so widely that it almost hurts, pulling Ricardo close to him in a thankful hug. He had been WWE champion, yes, a couple of times, but his main ambition had always been the World title. To possibly hold it at the same that he's co-tag champions with his best friend would just be the icing on the cake.

"I want to accompany you," his tag partner mutters against his shoulder, pulling away slightly to look up at him. "Por favor?"

It's a complicated decision because Big Show has taken great pleasure in hurting Ricardo the last few weeks, not to mention what could happen should Rhodes Scholars choose to use Alberto's distraction against them and target Ricardo, weaken one of their opponents even further before the Rumble, but he also knows that if anyone deserves to see the monster of a superstar get what's coming to him, it's the former ring announcer. So he nods faintly, tapping Ricardo on the jaw when his eyes light up. "Fine, mi amigo, but stay out of the way- I don't want him to get his hands on you again. Si?"

"Si, I will," he promises, trailing after Alberto as he prepares for the match, stretching and limbering up as best as he can. Eventually he stands up tall and looks over at the younger man, a focused look on his face. "Ready to go?"

"Si," he says, walking closer and dropping a hand on his arm. "Let's go, it's time to claim that World heavyweight title, mi amigo." The match is brutal and he _does_ have a lot of difficulty with Big Show, the man just insanely complicated to beat down enough to _stay_ down. Every time he has enough time to look up and check, Ricardo seems ok and that's the main thing that keeps him coming against whatever Big Show tries, just making it to his feet time and again as the count proceeds. Eventually the fight pours to the outside and Alberto gets an idea to keep him down, using all of his strength to push the announcer's table over and onto the larger man, pinning him to the floor so he can't move, much less stand to break the count. He and Ricardo both hold their breaths until the ten count is achieved, the title awarded to the Mexican aristocrat. He beams and holds it and his tag title close, Ricardo applauding him ecstatically as they stare around at the cheering crowd.

"Congratulations," Ricardo tells him with a bright smile as they walk together backstage once they've had their fill of celebrating with the crowd. "I knew you could do it, Alberto."

"Gracias, mi amigo," he answers, staring down at the title belts on either shoulder. "Because of your belief in me, I was able to hold on until I figured out a way to keep that massive perro down. I couldn't let him get away with what he's been doing to you, after all." He smiles wanly at the former ring announcer and sighs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before leading him into the locker room to get their things. _You've been through enough because of me, it's the least I can do to try to make up for some of it. _"Let's go celebrate."

But things are never that easy, especially in the WWE. The next week, Ricardo can do nothing but watch as Big Show attacks Alberto during a singles match against Rhodes and traps him under a table, leaving his tag partner struggling to free him, even the referees having difficulty helping Ricardo to free him. "Por favor," he pleads to thin air until finally the table shifts, allowing them enough traction to tilt it off of the older man, his tag partner breathing only a little easier as he collapses to his knees next to him. "Alberto, Alberto," he gasps, gingerly resting his hand atop his hair, so overwhelmed, he's not sure where to look first. "Please open your eyes... Por favor, mi amigo." Alberto had called him that many times since they'd become tag team champions, but Ricardo hadn't yet been able to bring himself to reciprocate... until now. He feels horrible for waiting so long, for being so scared of it all falling apart around him again, but Del Rio looks so pale and vulnerable. "Por favor..." He lowers his head over Alberto's body as the trainers continue to examine him when something warm and strong rests on his knee.

"Ricardo," Alberto's familiar voice whispers, tired but steady, strong enough despite the pain he must be in thanks to the Big Show's far from expected attack.. "Por favor, do not worry so much, mi amigo. I will be fine." The former ring announcer's head shoots up and Alberto smiles at him. "See, I am awake... everything will be alright."

He releases a soft sigh and shakes his head. "Alright, alright. I believe you," he murmurs. "You just weren't opening your eyes, and I... I was just..."

"I know," Alberto mutters, remembering how it had felt when Ricardo's lung had collapsed and he hadn't responded to Alberto at all all those many months ago. "But I'm going to be ok, mi amigo. We'll defend our tag titles at Elimination Chamber, and then I'll defend my World title, and everything will work out perfectly."

Ricardo nods as the trainers prepare to move Alberto, help him backstage. "I'm sorry, Alberto. I feel responsible... that you have to compete twice in one night. If I had just... just accepted things and move on last fall-"

"Mi amigo, no," Alberto hisses through a grimace as he's sat up, Ricardo taking one side to support him as they pull him to his feet, hooking an arm around his shoulders. "It was the General Managers' faults that we find ourselves in this position... and I don't regret that it happened, because I value our friendship, no matter how long it took me to actually reach this point. We will continue to be tag champions, and I will continue to be World champion, and nothing anyone does to us will change this."

"I hope so," Ricardo mumbles as he works with a referee to get him backstage, so the trainer can look him over more thoroughly.

Alberto glances at him, eyes soft despite the pain he's in; he wants him to believe in their partnership, but can't blame him if he still has some doubts. _I'll just have to prove to you, amigo, that we're going to be fine, no matter what comes. Tag champions or not, our friendship will not be lost this time around._

The Royal Rumble finally comes and Ricardo stares anxiously into his bag, waiting until closer to the time of the PPV to change into his ring gear. Alberto sits across from him and claps his hands on his knees, smiling when Ricardo looks up, briefly startled until he realizes who it is. "Oh, Alberto," he chuckles weakly. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he says, not wanting to add to Ricardo's visible tension by mentioning the lingering aches he's feeling from the past week. "Ready for tonight. Are you?"

The younger man breathes in deeply, nodding slowly. "I- I believe so, si. I'm going to do my best not to disappoint you, or ruin your own title match."

Alberto sighs and leans forward. "Mi amigo, you won't. I have all the faith in the world in you, just like you had all the faith in me when it came time for me to compete against Big Show. I know I was never the best employer, nor the best friend, to you, but I'm trying to change. I want you to never doubt in that. We are tag team partners, our weaknesses and our strengths are not to be viewed separately any longer. That's why when Big Show began targetting you, mi amigo, I took it personally and wanted to defend you. As we share the tag belts, I want you to know that I feel as though I'm sharing this title belt with you as well, because if not for you, I wouldn't have made it this far." Ricardo gapes as he holds out the World title, its gold gleam reflecting off of the bronze belt on Ricardo's shoulder.

"Alberto..."

A small grin flits across Alberto's face. "We are tag team champions, mi amigo, and now World champions. No one will ever be able to touch us." Ricardo smiles at him, finally finding the strength to collect his gear and go change to prepare for the match. Their match against Rhodes Scholars is early in the card, giving them time to catch their breaths between it and the World title match, Ricardo adjusting his wristpads as he walks down to the ring side by side with Alberto, staring down their opponents with as much self-confidence as he can muster, not wanting to appear weak in front of the men.

Once all four of them are in the ring, Cody nods and slaps Sandow on the back to show he'll be starting, turning to the opposing team to see who he'll be facing off against. "I'll start, mi amigo," Alberto tells Ricardo, nudging him towards the turnbuckle, but Ricardo plants his feet, staring across the ring at the former Legacy member. "Ricardo?"

"I want to start, Alberto." He looks over at the Mexican aristocrat. "I have this."

"Ok," Del Rio murmurs, wanting to prove his trust in the other man. He ducks between the ropes and watches as Ricardo rounds on Cody, shoulders held tense with determination, ignoring the mocking look on the youngest Rhodes' face. As they finally lock up, Ricardo holding his own for awhile until Cody kicks him in the knee, breaking the power struggle, Alberto shifts anxiously on the apron, wanting this to go well, to further his friend's reclamation of his confidence and sense of self-worth after so many setbacks the last few months.

Ricardo brushes his hair out of his eyes, turning his head for a moment to lock eyes with Alberto, before catching an approaching Cody and slinging him over in an armdrag, wrenching back on the limb until he floats over into a chinlock, trying to tire him out. He can see Alberto from this direction, the older man's focus on Sandow so he doesn't try anything while Ricardo's back to him, and he smiles a little, digging in deeper as he keeps Cody down for as long as he can. It doesn't come as a surprise when Rhodes eventually breaks free, kneeing Ricardo in the head before he can make it to his feet as well, but the damage is done- Cody looks winded and a bit dizzy as he dives for a tag, Sandow eagerly entering the ring and going right after Ricardo, who's still off-balanced.

Sandow punches him a few times before sweeping his legs out from under him, sending him to the mat before he sets up for the Cubito Aequet, sneering as Ricardo thrashes around, holding his face. Alberto glowers viciously as Sandow catches him before he can get too close to their corner, pulling him up enough to wrap both of their arms around his throat, sending him down in a vicious neckbreaker. Ricardo chokes and gasps, looking blearily towards Del Rio, before Sandow flips him around for a pin attempt, Ricardo kicking out at 2, only getting a brief breather as he once more tries to get over to Alberto, Damien's hands on his feet stopping his forward momentum. "No, no," he grunts, catching a glimpse of the tag belts and the World title side by side, the thought of failing Alberto here, now, leaving him disgusted with his weakness. His struggles grow until finally his feet impact against Sandow's jaw, sending him reeling back in shock just enough to free Ricardo, who then finally dives towards Alberto, the tag finally being made as Del Rio enters the ring and Ricardo rolls out onto the apron, relieved to let his former employer take over while he regains his falculties.

Alberto hits the ground running, hitting Sandow in the side with a kick, following it up with further strikes to the shoulder, neck, and then his head, leaving him gasping and lost in the flurry of offense. He sneers and waits as the man tries to advance once more, failing as Del Rio catches him and slams his arm over his knees, sending him rolling away towards Cody. Alberto seems nonplussed as the younger man gets the tag, resuming his position in the match just to get the same treatment as his partner- more kicks and chops until he drops to his knees, holding the arm that Ricardo had been working on earlier. Taking advantage of his vulnerable position, Alberto dropkicks him before focusing on his injured limb, smirking as he forces Cody to his feet and over to the turnbuckle, slamming his arm against the unforgiving ropes before allowing him to fall to the mat. Standing over him with no doubt in the upcoming victory, he looks up and locks eyes with Ricardo, blinking back to awareness. "Mi amigo," he says, walking over to him. "Go for it."

Ricardo blinks in surprise as he accepts the tag, gaping at him. "Are you sure?"

"Si," he nods solemnly. "This is your victory. Wrap this up." Ricardo nods back and stares down at Cody's struggling form, looking over at Sandow as he waits for an opportunity to come in and attack- just for his feet to get taken out from under him a few moments later as he hits the apron facefirst, falling out of sight. Alberto smirks from where he's standing on the outside, Sandow flailing around in angry pain at his feet, before he waves Ricardo on.

His tag partner squares his shoulders and approaches the turnbuckle, gingerly climbing up it before he looks over his shoulder, hitting a corkscrew moonsault from the second rope, his body crashing into Cody's midsection. He gasps for air himself before twisting Cody up in a pin, listening as the three is counted out by the referee, beyond relieved that his ribs have healed enough that he can do his standard moves without risking his health again. Even so, it does still hurt, but it's not the sharp, unending pain that he'd felt all of those months before. As he sits up and rubs at his midsection, Alberto rolls into the ring and pulls him closer as he peers into his face worriedly, squeezing his shoulders. "Are you ok?" he demands. "Your ribs-"

"I'm fine," he nods, "just a little sore, it's normal after that move." He sits there for a moment longer before looking up, his face lighting up. "We won, Alberto."

"Indeed we did, mi amigo. As soon as you're ready, I need to go shower and get ready for my World title match."

"Oh, of course," Ricardo gasps, scrambling to his feet despite Alberto's attempts at encouraging him to take his time, not to push it. There's no stopping him, however, so Alberto merely shakes his head and follows him backstage, where Ricardo takes his title belts from him and urges him on to do what he needs to to refreshen himself for the World title match against Big Show coming up all too soon. "Eh, Alberto?" he asks once the older man comes out, toweling his hair off. "I know I'm not really needed out there and perhaps will be more of a distraction than anything, but do you want me to accompany you in your match against Big Show?"

Alberto pauses and blinks in surprise. "Eh, well, it's up to you, Ricardo, you've been through plenty already tonight, but if you want to accompany me, that's fine. Without you, I wouldn't have made it this far anyway." Ricardo's smile at this response soothes all of Alberto's lingering doubts of once more putting him within reach of Big Show and he grins too.

The match is hard. Alberto fights to keep Big Show down, but he keeps coming back, taking Del Rio down, leaving him struggling just to make it to his feet more and more with each blow. He's not sure he's going to manage it, barely succeed at being champion for ten days, when Ricardo comes to his rescue again- has somehow snuck in duct tape, and while Alberto dazes the larger man with repeated kicks and strikes, begins the arduous project of wrapping the thick tape around his legs, holding him in place against the ring ropes so he can't move, much less stand up before the ten count is completed. Alberto and Ricardo stand on either side of the ropes, watching and holding their breaths until finally- finally... it happens, Big Show is counted out and Del Rio is announced as the winner, retaining his title.

Ricardo laughs as he joins him on the outside, the two of them watching as the spitting angry superstar flails and fights to free himself from the duct tape, despite being unable of easily reaching his legs from this position. Alberto smirks and hugs his tag partner. "Muchas gracias, mi amigo. I'm glad you could get a little revenge against him as well." Ricardo nods against his neck and, with one last glance back at him as the referee tries to help free him, they walk together back up the ramp with their three titles.

Unfortunately what, to them, feels like a conclusion is seemingly only the beginning when Alberto is put in a rematch the following night for Raw Roulette, which selects a _Bodyslam challenge_. Alberto shakes his head in some amusement at this prospect, knowing what Big Show must be thinking... but he's willing to give anything a go, on such a high of their retaining both the tag titles and the World title, that he thinks he can accomplish anything right now. When Ricardo once more accompanies him out to the ring, he doesn't argue the point- which quickly proves to be a mistake, all of it. Big Show has anything but the challenge on his mind as he immediately beats Del Rio down and KOs Ricardo when he tries to move to assist his partner in any way possible yet again, ruthlessly trapping Alberto's wrist against the ropes and taping it down similar to how his legs were the night prior.

From there all Del Rio can do, once he does come to, is watch as Big Show focuses his fury on Ricardo, throwing him around and outside of the ring- which is almost worse than the rest of it, as Alberto can't see what's happening to the younger man from this position- and he snarls as Big Show drags the decimated younger man back in sight of the Mexican aristocrat, looking Alberto right in the eye as he lifts him up once more and KO punches him again, leaving Ricardo a motionless lump in the middle of the ring. Del Rio stares at him, kicking and trying to strike him despite being trapped, as he kneels down close to him and laughs at him, forcing him to look yet again at his best friend, before making a fist and clocking Alberto in the face with it, leaving him slumped against the ropes, eyes open only a sliver as he struggles to keep an eye on the former ring announcer, ensure that Big Show won't do anything further to him. Not that he could do anything to stop it if he does... but it helps a bit to have _some _awareness of what's going on. Despite his throbbing headache, he breathes a little easier when Big Show disappears, the ring trembling as he exits it, and all Alberto can see is his former ring announcer, the incessant tugging on his wrists prickling at his senses until he realizes that it's referees and trainers sawing away at the tape with a knife to free him, while other referees try to revive Ricardo.

Everything slams back into him with a rush as soon as his wrists are freed and he hits the mat with a thud, struggling away from the hands trying to assist him. "Ricardo," he grunts, muttering in Spanish as he somehow pieces together the strength to collapse at his side, nudging him with what energy he has left. "Por favor, mi amigo, open your eyes," he pleads with the unconscious young man. "Por favor..." Finally his words seem to register and his tag partner's eyes flutter open, pained gasps slipping past his lips as he tries to focus. "It's ok," he soothes him. "You're going to be alright, mi amigo. Just relax, breathe, let the trainer look you over." He knows it's not good, his words barely registering with the younger man, but when he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Ricardo's hand, he responds by squeezing Alberto's hand back and the Mexican aristocrat smiles shakily, resting his head against Ricardo's neck for a moment before the trainer eases him aside so he has more room to work on testing Ricardo's awareness before they figure out how to transport him backstage.

After a long, tense night where Alberto's own headache comes and goes, Ricardo is released from the ER with yet another neckbrace on, his each step tentative and slow. He had somehow avoided an actual concussion again, but the repeated strikes to his head had caused whiplash and exacerbated all of the prior neck injuries he had sustained over the years. Alberto helps him solemnly to the taxi and they drive quietly back to the hotel, Ricardo's breathing sounding more like hitched attempts at not crying in the dark as the sun struggles to rise. Once they arrive, Del Rio pays the taxi driver and leans in to help his best friend out of the car, murmuring to him as they step over the curb to the hotel. The elevator ride takes forever, staff helping them with their bags, and both men sigh in some relief as they walk down the hall to their room.

Once they're alone, the staff rewarded for their assistance with sizable tips, Alberto grips Ricardo by the shoulders and leads him to his bed. He hisses and sniffs as he gingerly sits down, Del Rio hesitant to move away even once he's sprawled out on top of the blanket. "I'm going to be ok," he mumbles.

"I know you are, mi amigo," Alberto nods, resting his hand on top of Ricardo's head gingerly. "Of course you will because you're strong and a fighter. But I'll admit, you scared me in the ring, when you wouldn't open your eyes. It... it reminded me of when you collapsed on the ramp, and... I didn't know what to do either time."

"Lo siento," the former ring announcer mutters. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, no! You have nothing to apologize for. I'm just glad you're going to recover, Ricardo." He squeezes his arm. "You're my tag partner, and mi mejor amigo. I need you in one piece for a number of reasons."

"I'm your best friend?" he asks, blinking sluggishly as Alberto finds a spare blanket and shakes it out over him so he doesn't have to move again.

"Si, of course you are," he mumbles, stepping back with a frown. "Are you warm enough? Perhaps I can ask for another-"

"I'm fine, Alberto. I just need some sleep."

"Alright, mi amigo. I have some things to think about anyway. Rest well." He waits until Ricardo's eyes are closed, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders, before walking away and slumping at the desk, burying his fingers in his hair as he dwells on the last few hours, the look in Big Show's eyes as he'd taunted Alberto before targetting Ricardo. Shakes his head and looks over at the title belts lined up on his bed, wondering if the three titles are worth the pain that Ricardo is constantly in anymore, or that he'd been in before. The answer is easily no.

"I don't like this, mi amigo. But if you promise to stay backstage, in our locker room, then fine. You can come to the arena," Alberto tells Ricardo that Friday, brow furrowed unhappily as his friend insists on accompanying him.

"I promise," he agrees, eyes wide. "It's just, Alberto, we're tag partners now, I should be there to support you, as long as I'm able." The Mexican aristocrat sighs and nods, patting Ricardo lightly on the back, understanding his viewpoint for the most part. "So I can come?"

"Si, I suppose," he agrees reluctantly, unable to shake the feeling of foreboding he has regarding the situation. "Come then, let's get ready to go." So they do, every wince and groan Ricardo makes as he gingerly changes clothes eating away at Alberto more and more, making him angrier with each passing moment. After they arrive at the arena, Alberto leads Ricardo to their joint locker room and watches closely as he gingerly sits down on the nearest bench, clutching his neck. "I have something to do, mi amigo. I'll be right back."

Ricardo's brow furrows. "Uh, alright, Alberto... be careful."

Del Rio hesitates, his hand frozen on the doorknob. _Careful is the last thing I'm going to be,_ he decides, storming through the halls all the way outside, where he paces and he waits, searching for a weapon or some way to get revenge for his best friend. "No one touches Ricardo, not anymore. He's been through more than enough, mostly because of me." When his opportunity comes, he takes it, paying no mind to security or anyone else who tries to stop him. Unfortunately Big Show gets away, ducking back into his car to avoid Alberto's fury. The Mexican aristocrat can do nothing but watch as he escapes, stewing angrily.

When he returns to the locker room, Ricardo is waiting anxiously for him, almost vibrating with tension. He relaxes only a little when he sees Alberto, his eyes wide and wet as he looks him over as best as he can around the brace. "Are you ok?"

Alberto winces and walks over to him, resting his hand on his shoulder. "Si, mi amigo. I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about. I will protect you from Big Show, I promise. The only reason his focus is on you is because of me, after all." Ricardo releases a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. "Now, I have a match against Ziggler. I want you to stay here and relax. When I defeat him, we will leave and you can get some sleep before our flight back to Florida tomorrow."

"That sounds nice," he admits lowly, trudging back over to the bench and settling in to watch the rest of the show. "Good luck tonight, then." It's clear he still wants to be out there for Alberto, fighting to content himself with staying where Alberto had told him to. Which he has every intention to but, only a couple of minutes into Alberto's match, the feed dies, the monitor turning dark unexpectedly. "Oh," he groans, gingerly getting to his feet and fiddling with the cables, trying to fix whatever its problem may be. Nothing works so he straightens back up with a grimace and walks to the door, peering either way before walking out into the hallway. He's just caught sight of a working monitor when he hears familiar footsteps behind him, tensing up just before large hands grip the back of his dress jacket, holding him in place.

His whimper is answered by a dark laugh and he groans, closing his eyes as he's dragged bodily backwards, not needing to look to know who's at his back. Big Show mutters, "Well, look who I found wandering the halls... you know, your tag partner thinks he can come around and steal my title, attack me in parking lots, damage my rental cars, and I'm not supposed to defend myself? Well, sadly... he's wrong and you're the one who I'm going to use to prove my point."

"No, no, por favor, please-"

"Shhhhh. Wait until the cameras are on you," he orders him coldly, continuing to drag him through the halls until they're in position. There's absolutely nothing Ricardo can do as Big Show taunts Alberto with his best friend, making him beg before there's a sharp throbbing impact on the side of his head and everything goes dark for the former ring announcer. When he comes to again, Alberto is leaning over him with the doctor, Ricardo moaning faintly as he reaches out for him.

"Mi amigo," he breathes, glancing over at the doctor as he examines his neck and spine all over again. "It's ok, you're going to be ok. I've got you." When the man allows it, they help Ricardo sit up and he shudders painfully, Alberto supporting him as the trainers and doctor continue their evaluation until they feel safe to move him back to the office. Once he's sure Ricardo is in good hands, he goes back out into the hallway and kicks at a trunk, grunting mutedly to keep from screaming at how no matter what he does, it's not enough to scare Big Show off, keep Ricardo safe. Once his temper abates slightly, he calls Sofia so that she won't worry, knowing that the housekeeper watches all WWE shows for them. "Si, si, Sofia," he mutters. "He's going to be fine, I will take good care of him... and we'll be back in Florida soon, you can see with your own eyes..." He tries to focus on her response, but can't move past the memory of the look on Ricardo's face from the titantron, or how it had felt to run up to find him unconscious on the floor.

So this fuels him the next week, after he leaves Ricardo in Sofia's care, to find his way to Big Show's hotel room where he's holed up waiting for the contract regarding their championship match at Elimination Chamber. The brawl that follows finally gives Alberto the opportunity he needs to get proper revenge, leaving the much larger man floundering on the floor outside of his room before kicking him viciously in the skull. He's pleased with himself, even after he arrives back in Florida the next day to find messages on his phone alerting him that he's been suspended from Smackdown that week. It pisses him off all over again, for a brief moment, before he looks down at a sleeping Ricardo, shaking his head slowly. "It was worth it, mi amigo," he mutters. "I would risk many more suspensions to defend you. After everything, it's the least I can do."

If one good thing happens, it's that no challengers for the tag titles step up, so Ricardo isn't required to compete at Elimination Chamber, and Alberto can focus solely on Big Show, allowing him to only be fueled by his anger and indignation on account of Ricardo until he successfully gets him to say I Quit, two of the most beautiful words he'd ever heard in the English language. He wraps an arm loosely around Ricardo, leading him backstage as they talk quietly in Spanish, grins lighting up both of their faces. Not much time has passed when the Elimination Chamber match itself begins, Alberto watching closely as his opponent for Wrestlemania is determined... When Jack Swagger wins it, they exchange thoughtful, uncomfortable glances. The man's manager is well known for his xenophobic viewpoints and how viciously he will defend them, encouraging Swagger to hurt immigrants all the more.

But Del Rio also has other things to keep an eye on, Dolph Ziggler challenging him to a one-on-one match the next night. "Hm, how convenient," he mutters, all too aware that Ziggler's been waiting on the sidelines this entire time, watching for an opportunity to use his as of yet unused rematch clause since losing the title to Big Show all of those months ago.

"What is?" Ricardo asks, smoothing his hand over his tag title.

"Ziggler," he sighs. "Hey, amigo, while I wait to deal with this, I was thinking. Perhaps we could take some of the focus off of Swagger and Colter's hate speeches against our people with spoof videos." Ricardo looks up, blinking in surprise. "I know, it seems like something out of character for me to do, but it as much of a joke as I think that they are. Will you assist me?"

"Of course, Alberto. I'd be happy to," he smiles. "But your match is soon, so you should get ready. And... if you don't mind, I will accompany you... since Langston and AJ will be out there."

Alberto tilts his head, considering it. "Mi amigo, I would appreciate that," he admits, leaning over to scoop his tag title up from the table as well. "Just keep an eye out for E. I don't trust him."

"I will, don't worry." The match goes about as expected, Alberto and Ziggler going back and forth until Big E gets onto the apron and distracts the referee, Ricardo unable to do much as AJ blocks him from the ring, head tilted smugly. He grimaces at her, not wanting to lay a hand on her, no matter how annoying she may be. There's nothing to be done for it anyway, as E returns to the floor, the referee begins paying attention to the match itself, and Ziggler pins Del Rio after using the opportunity to send him facefirst into the turnbuckle before hitting the ZigZag, this giving him the leverage he needs to pin Alberto.

Alberto is stewing that night as Ricardo and he sits in their hotel room, still trying to think of a way to make fun of Colter and Swagger's hate videos, when he snarls and swipes everything off of the desk in one angry movement, Ricardo swallowing as he looks up at his former employer. "Lo siento," he grumbles. "It perhaps is not the right night for this sort of activity, mi amigo. I think I will go to bed, perhaps I'll have a clearer mindset tomorrow, and we can work on it then."

"Oh, alright, Alberto," Ricardo says quietly. "Buenas noches."

"Buenas noches." He changes into more comfortable clothes and sinks into bed, staring into the half-lit room while he listens to Ricardo's quiet movements across the room. It takes quite awhile for his restless thoughts to slow, allow him to relax and doze off, but to his relief, he eventually manages to get _some_ sleep, and when he wakes back up, he does feel better. More alert, and less annoyed. He sighs and rolls onto his back, glancing around the room before spotting his tag partner, not in bed where he belongs, but instead slumped in the desk chair, his face pressed against the sheets of paper that had been sprawled across the floor when he had gone to bed. He blinks in some confusion before sitting up. "Mi amigo?" Ricardo doesn't stir and he quietly stands, padding over to him. He's about to rest his hand on the back of Ricardo's neck, attempt to awaken him, when he freezes mid-motion, gaping at the scribbled notes in Spanish all over the paper. "Ricardo..." An entire skit is covering the lines, mimicking Colter's speech perfectly in a comical way. "It's perfect!" he laughs, throwing his arms around the sleeping young man in an awkward hug.

Ricardo stirs, murmuring to himself before he blinks awake. "Alberto?"

"Si, si, mi amigo. I just saw your skit... how long did this take you?"

The former ring announcer yawns and wipes at his eyes, looking down at the paper. "Um, uh. I guess a couple of hours, I don't know. Lost track of time." He glances at Alberto. "You really like it?"

"Si, I do. I can't wait to film it," he says, grinning as he rereads the paper. "Amigo, I really am sorry about last night, all I could think about was losing to Ziggler, when he has that rematch clause. I shouldn't have let my anger take over, I really have been trying to be better about all of that. I didn't mean to leave you alone to figure out everything."

"It's ok, I understand," Ricardo says quietly. "I'm serious, Alberto. You're still human, and you're allowed to get angry. I wish I could've helped last night, it's just everything happened so fast..."

"I don't blame you," Alberto shakes his head. "That was my match, my responsibility. Now, let's move past that, and get a camera crew to help us with this." He waves Ricardo's ideas around with a grin, his tag partner's face lighting up as well.

The first video airs that Friday, reairing on Monday. It turns out about as good as they'd expected, Alberto and Ricardo talking lowly about doing a second one as they enter the arena, neither noticing until Ricardo bumps into something hard and unmoving, gasping as he falls back, only Alberto's quick reflexes enough to keep him upright. They exchange glances, the younger man nodding that he's ok, before they face forward to find Langston and Ziggler blocking their path. "Move," Del Rio snaps at them viciously.

"Oh, but see, we can't do that," Dolph smirks at him. "Not without telling you our news first. Big E, I think I've forgotten it in the face of their clumsiness. Do you remember...? Oh! Right," he exclaims, snapping his fingers. "I beat you last week, Del Rio, and now it's your little amigo's turn." He sneers at Ricardo, who glances nervously towards Alberto as he snarls at Big E. "Think you can go two minutes in the ring against me without tripping over your own feet?"

Alberto says nothing, giving him the opportunity to speak up, defend himself, and Ricardo swallows. "Si, I do," he says simply, standing a little straighter in the face of Ziggler's aggravating smugness.

"How cute," Dolph mocks him. "I guess we'll see how true that really is in a little bit." Laughing, he slaps Big E on the chest and walks away, Alberto glaring after them as Ricardo's hands form into tense fists at his sides.

"You'll be ok, mi amigo. I know you'll do fine against him."

"Gracias," he mutters, though he remains distracted while changing into his wrestling gear and warming up a bit with stretches before the match.

Alberto notices, saying nothing until they're about to leave for the ring. He rests a hand on either side of Ricardo's neck, squeezing gently. "Take a breath, mi amigo," he tells him quietly. "You're going to be fine, I will be out there, and then we'll work together on the next spoof video, hm? I promise not to leave you to work on it by yourself this time."

"I, I know," he murmurs, trying to smile. "Gracias, Alberto." So they walk side by side to the ring and Alberto squeezes his arm before going to stand opposite of the side that AJ and Big E have seemingly claimed as their own, glaring through the ropes at them as Ricardo and Ziggler circle each other, the younger man looking around nervously before Dolph punches at him, Ricardo only just avoiding the strike, shaking his head to refocus on the challenge before him. Ziggler keeps playing with him, throwing overexaggerated punches as Ricardo avoids them, cornering himself against the turnbuckle with nowhere to go. He glances over and locks eyes with Alberto, who looks confident in him despite everything, and he takes a breath, waiting until Dolph lunges forward yet again, Ricardo ducking into a dive at just the right time and spinning around to dropkick Dolph in the back, wedging him into the corner himself.

He closes his eyes, bracing himself for a moment before taking off at a run, hitting Alberto's flying enzuigiri against Dolph's skull, downing him within seconds. He takes a minute to breathe, regroup, before kicking Ziggler in the side a few times, not wanting to give him too much time to regain his strength. Under the referee's watchful eye, he grips him by the shoulders and pulls him to the middle of the ring, getting a running start before hitting a leg drop on him, causing him to writhe a little bit. He then floats him into a rearnaked choke, giving himself a minute to think, decide what to do next. Before Dolph can fight free, he loosens the hold and knees Dolph in the face until the referee warns him, Ricardo quickly releasing him.

Once they're both back on their feet, the action picks up a bit. They exchange punches before Dolph gets the upper hand, dropkicking Ricardo into the ropes and crashing his leg down across his shoulders, sending him to the mat with a rattling impact that makes even Alberto wince. Dolph circles him a few more times, sneering out at the World champion as he slaps his hands against the apron, trying to get his friend back into the match, before sending a knee into his upperback, drawing back on his arms with a ferocity that makes Alberto see red, aware that it's mostly to prove a point to him. Ricardo struggles and cries out in pain, this doing nothing for his longterm neck issues, but to his credit, there's no sign of quit in him and Alberto nods quietly at him as he stares blankly ahead at his tag partner, wishing he could do more to assist Ricardo through this.

Finally Dolph frees him, allowing him to drop face first into the mat, adding even more insult to injury, and he prances around the ring, running his fingers through his obnoxious hair as he sneers at the crowd, but Alberto's focus remains on Ricardo as he rolls gingerly onto his back and breathes heavily, staring up at the lights while clutching his neck. Apparently those few moments are all the younger man needs to regain his will to fight because, as Ziggler turns to resume his offence, he tangles his legs around the other man's and sends him down in a revised drop toehold, using the momentum to stand upright for the first time in too long. It's clear he's hurting, his hand still hovering over his neck, and he just wants to finish this right now, while Dolph is dazed, so he climbs the ropes, pausing on the second to determine if it's worthwhile to hit the moonsault that had become his finisher.

Unfortunately he doesn't get the chance as AJ Lee hops up on the apron, distracting the referee and, Alberto too far away to do anything from the other side of the ring other than watch in horrified disgust. This allows Big E to sweep Ricardo's legs out from under him so that he crashes limply to the mat below after hitting his head on the turnbuckle, dazing him. Dolph scrambles to his feet and grabs him, bringing him to the middle of the ring before rolling him up in a tight schoolboy, Alberto gritting his teeth as the trio steal yet another victory. They thankfully have the sense to run as Del Rio rolls into the ring, going right to his friend, but it's frustrating enough to watch them celebrating the tainted victory from the top of the ramp as he rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder. When his friend speaks, his voice is so quiet that Alberto almost doesn't catch it. "Lo siento," he groans, tugging vaguely at Alberto's boot.

Once the words register with him, the Mexican aristocrat shakes his head viciously, staring down at Ricardo with grim pride. "No, no, mi amigo. You have nothing to apologize for. They fought dirty, and I wish I had been better prepared for such nonsense. Thus, I am the one who is sorry."

Ricardo hisses as he sits up slowly, shaking his head to try to refocus on reality. "We're a team, Alberto, but it was my loss. You can't feel guilty over it. I should've been the one better prepared." Alberto sighs and leans over, carefully hugging him before pulling him the rest of the way to his feet, leading him backstage so the trainer can look him over. Nothing is seriously wrong, thankfully, but they're still sitting there, mulling over their losses, when there's a knock at the door. Vickie Guerrero lets herself in and they exchange glances as she smirks at them.

"I've been thinking about your recent luck- or lack thereof- against Dolph Ziggler and Big E. Wrestlemania has a lot of things, but I think right now, it needs a tag title match." Her voice turns singsong-y as she grins blindingly at them. "So I'm sanctioning it. Good luck." With another smug glare back at them, she leaves the room with a special little spring to her step.

Alberto curses vibrantly in Spanish as Ricardo covers his face with his hands, sighing. "This is all my fault, now you have to wrestle two matches in one night again..."

"It's not your fault, and I won't be fighting this alone," Del Rio tells him. "As you said, we're a tag team and I'll have your back, same as you'll have mine. We'll get through this, together."

But things sadly aren't that easy. The feud with Swagger quickly evolves from mocking videos and faceoffs in the ring when, during a match, Del Rio pushes Colter. He's taken out behind the announcer's desk, left laying, when he hears something all too terribly familiar- Ricardo's screams of pain, the sound forcing him to his feet where he struggles to catch his breath against the turnbuckle post, ignoring the referees as he stumbles around the ring and collapses next to Ricardo, looking around wildly. "What happened?! What happened?" He's dazed and in pain himself, Ricardo's whimpers stabbing through him like a redhot knife, but it becomes pretty clear that his ankle has been broken at the hands of Jack Swagger, Del Rio seeing red as he tries to support his friend, squeezing his hands to ease his agony while he's moved backstage for his leg to be examined and set.

"No, no, no," Ricardo breathes, reaching out for him as tears pour down his face. "No- the tag match... I can't, I can't-"

"Don't worry about that right now," Alberto tells him quietly as they roll him backstage on a stretcher. "Just breathe, take it easy. Let them look you over. Everything's going to be ok. I'll make sure of it." And he tries, oh God, he tries. Stays as strong as he possibly can for Ricardo, fights not to show his worry when around Sofia, who begins to take care of Ricardo as soon as they arrive in Florida the following day. Concentrates on what he'll do as soon as he returns to WWE, taking the rest of the week off to keep an eye on Ricardo, get him checked out by the best doctors available to make sure that what he'd endured as a teenager won't happen all over again. It's only late at night, when the house is quiet and dark, Ricardo and Sofia fast asleep, that he ponders Wrestlemania and all of its different implications. Not only is his world title on the line, but also his and Ricardo's tag titles... should they lose them, it'd be yet another blow to the younger man that, after everything he'd been through, would make it even rougher for the younger man to rebound from this newest injury.

So when they arrive at Raw, he guides Ricardo patiently to their locker room, ensuring that he's safe and protected, locking the door behind him as he goes, and immediately marches to the GM's office, glaring down at Vickie Guerrero as she stares up at him, clearly shaken but trying not to show it. "This is your fault," he tells her lowly. "You give perros like Colter and Swagger free reign on your show, and they hurt Ricardo, and now he's not cleared to compete for at least a month and a half-"

"Like it was my fault when _you_ hurt Ricardo, your own tag partner?" She sneers at him, rambling in Spanish about his own culpability in everything as his eyes flash in anger, his teeth gritting against the truth of her words. "You cannot possibly-"

"This does not matter!" he yells at her. "I know what you're thinking, if he can't defend, you will strip us of them and hand them over to Ziggler and Big E. I am here to tell you that will not happen. I won't let that happen. Si? You agreed to this once before- you will agree to it now. If you insist on us having this match, I will wrestle it alone. He will not lose his first championship belt in the WWE because of _my_ actions."

She frowns at him, letting him rant himself out. Finally she clears her throat, Alberto cutting himself off. "I will consider it," she says coolly. "Now go, you have a match."

He scowls at her but obliges, going to check on his best friend before venturing out to see what she has to throw at him next. "I want you to stay here and relax," he tries to convince Ricardo, but it's not going over that well, and the former ring announcer still looks so glum and pale that Alberto isn't thrilled leaving him alone with nothing but worry and pain to focus on. So he finally is swayed, allowing him to accompany him to ringside, ignoring Cesaro lurking around in the ring, laughing at their misfortune, as he follows Ricardo to the other side of the ring and pulls a chair over for him, supporting him as he sits down. "Alright?"

"Si," Ricardo nods, glancing around anxiously before propping his crutches against the table. "Gracias. Good luck, Alberto." Del Rio grins at him before entering the ring, trying to keep his focus on his opponent, despite being all too aware of how vulnerable Ricardo is only a few feet away. This backfires massively when he realizes a couple of minutes into the match- Ricardo isn't where he'd left him, Alberto glancing around wildly to find the younger man laying on the ground, struggling as Swagger pulls off the protective boot on his ankle and twists at the injured appendage. Alberto storms outside of the ring and fights the man away from his tag partner, his mind racing.

Swagger races away, Alberto counted out of his match against Cesaro, but this fact matters little to him even as anger courses through his veins, Cesaro mocking Ricardo even now. He lets some anger out on the other man before returning to his tag partner, hating himself for taking so long to realize what was going on beyond his own meaningless match. After all, every second that Swagger had his hands on Ricardo had increased his chances of a lengthier recovery period or a relapse of his teenage years, and who knows what all else. He hates himself for not noticing sooner, for letting it get this far. Thankfully the trainer confirms that, although his ankle injury had been slightly worsened, he foresees no other complications as long as Ricardo avoids any other confrontations. From here, Vickie has really no choice but to give in- accept Del Rio's demands, or risk him going to the board of directors and getting her in trouble, a threat that still holds a fair amount of weight with all General Managers, none of them wanting to risk their positions.

This settled, Alberto takes the trainer's warnings to heart and keeps Ricardo from accompanying him during the next few events leading up to Wrestlemania, no matter how sad it makes his tag partner. "Your safety comes first, mi amigo. I will be alright, as long as I know you're alright as well," he tells him, ruffling his hair before he collects his title belts and leaves the locker room, once more locking it securely behind him. Swagger and Zeb seem oddly proud of themselves not long afterwards as they taunt him with a crutch that resembles Ricardo's, making him fear for a brief while that it's one of Ricardo's, that they had somehow gotten their hands on the other man, its steel biting into his flesh again and again until he can barely see straight, it taking all of the referees in the arena to get Swagger and Colter to leave him alone.

He's sitting, slumped forward as a trainer looks his numerous welts over, doing what he can to ease the swelling and pain, when a familiar, slow shuffling step joins him, a trembling hand resting on his arm, away from the inflamed skin. "Alberto," Ricardo whispers, hobbling closer and wrapping a hand around his neck, guiding his sweat-soaked face to rest against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry..."

"No need," he grunts, eyes shut as he relaxes against his best friend's warmth. "I'm glad you're alright. I thought for a moment..." Ricardo's fingers continue stroking through his hair and he breathes, gritting his teeth against the fresh agony stabbing up his spine with every press of the trainer's hand. "Ay, ay..."

Ricardo cringes against his hair and shakes his head, watching the trainer's actions through blurry eyes. "Is he going to be ok?"

"Yes," the man says grimly, tugging the gloves he's wearing off with a snap. "But I'd suggest he take the rest of the week off, rest properly. Heal." He looks intently from former ring announcer to Mexican aristocrat before turning on his heel and leaving the room, clearly far from pleased with what's been going on lately thanks to one Jack Swagger.

Ricardo holds onto his former employer for a few more minutes before his ankle starts throbbing anew and he has to sit down, awkwardly dragging a second chair over to prop his bad leg up on it while he stays near Alberto, waiting for the trainer to allow them to leave. "I... I can't believe this," he mutters, staring down at his hands. "As if my ankle being broken and you having to compete twice alone in one night isn't enough, now... now you're hurt too..." He shudders and looks away. "It's all my fault... if I had just... been able to fight Swagger off, I could defend the titles with you, and helped you fend him off tonight..."

Alberto's hand finds his neck, squeezing gently. "Stop that, mi amigo. I have told you over and over again, and I will continue to do so, that this is not your fault. Things happen, especially in this business, and if anyone knows that better than anybody else, it's us. If anything, tonight will encourage me to fight harder at Wrestlemania- for our titles, for us. Swagger, Ziggler, Big E, it doesn't matter who stands in my way- they all will pay for the past few weeks. I promise you."

Ricardo sucks in a shaky breath, nodding wearily as he looks at his employer, clearly wanting to believe every word coming out of his mouth, but drained of most hope considering how they just keep getting beat down over and over again. As much as it hurts, Alberto can't blame him, and vows to himself that come Wrestlemania, he will insure that his friend's faith in himself and in Alberto returns tenfold. Thus when the biggest PPV of the year comes around, he's ready for it. Every lingering ache and pain seems meaningless as they walk side by side into the arena, Ricardo still balanced precariously on his crutch, biting his lip with each step. Del Rio hates him feeling the need to continue to force himself to appear at every event, but he understands that he wants to be a good tag partner, so he doesn't argue against it.

Unfortunately the tag title and the World title matches are back to back, and Alberto glares at the match board as he takes it in, knowing that it's more than likely Vickie's way of getting back at him for yet again forcing her hand after Swagger repeatedly attacked Ricardo to give him what he'd wanted regarding the tag title match. But he has no choice, if he doesn't want to add to Ricardo's guilt and self-recriminations, so he keeps his thoughts to himself and pats his friend on the back as they walk side by side to the ring, his former ring announcer still slowed up by his broken ankle. Del Rio has secondguessed himself over and over again on allowing him to stay at ring side, but it's Wrestlemania, and Ricardo's half of the tag titles are on the line. If anyone deserves to see this match through, it's him.

Ziggler is far from an uncharted opponent for him, but Big E hasn't competed yet, so everyone facing off against him would be cautious and uncertain, Alberto warily pacing in front of the tag rope, wishing that Ricardo could have his back in all ways and not just watching worriedly from the outside. Filing that away as yet another thing to use against Jack Swagger shortly, he shakes his head and focuses on his current opponents, trying to compartmentalize all of his wayward thoughts. Ziggler starts off and they chain wrestle for awhile, struggling to get the upperhand when Alberto comes thisclose to landing a solid enziguiri, Dolph lunging aside and only just missing the impact as he dives towards Big E, letting him into the match for the first time. The man seems undisturbed by Del Rio as they stare at each other, waiting for the other to blink.

Finally Alberto loses patience and dives at him, swinging wildly with punches that strike repeatedly but seem to not affect the muscular man that much, Del Rio's eyes narrowing into a glare as he examines the younger man, pulling away to safety. But it's too late, his early attack had sent the enforcer over the edge and he tackles Del Rio, taking him bodily to the mat and coming just shy of a DQ as he punches and knees him, ignoring the referee until Ziggler and AJ begin yelling at him. As if a switch has flicked in his brain, he stands up automatically and drops Alberto to the mat, Ricardo's voice calling over the other two's as he tries to revive his tag partner, ignoring his ankle as he pounds his fist against the ring apron. Finally it works, Del Rio stirring and looking towards him, eyes reflecting the lights over the ring. From there, he blinks, takes a breath, and struggles to his feet in time to see Dolph back in the ring, smirking across at him smugly.

This entices Alberto all the more and when Ziggler rushes at him, he scoops him up and slams him roughly to the mat before rounding on him with kicks and strikes, eager to see him remain down on the mat for the rest of the match. Even keeping an eye on Big E while he does this doesn't keep him from his prime goal, crouching in the corner, waiting, counting the seconds patiently until... Dolph struggles to sit up, a dazed look in his eye. Snapping his boot against the other man's jaw feels almost as good as it will to do so to Swagger later on, even though Alberto expects E to rush in and save the bleach blond man once more. This, however, doesn't happen and the three count is achieved, Del Rio rolling over and looking around to find Ricardo and AJ arguing, with only the steel steps between them, Big E heading their way.

Alberto's dark eyes narrow as he watches this for a moment, allowing himself to catch his breath before he makes it to his feet and lunges through the ropes, dropkicking the other man with such determination that he sends him staggering to the side and rattles the commentary table, giving Ricardo enough time to get away and slide uncoordinatedly into the ring, where he's safe by Alberto's side once more. They stand next to each other, Alberto's arm warm around his shoulders as they stare down at the struggling trio, Ziggler still dazed from his boot as E and AJ try to help him stand, their uneven heights not helping this prospect much at all. Del Rio grins and leans against his best friend, pleased as they backtrack up the ramp, clearly unhappy with the entire situation.

But there's no time to properly enjoy it as, barely two seconds after they'd exited, Jack Swagger and Zeb Colter make their way to the ring, driving in some ridiculous ATV, both Mexicans rolling their eyes at it. Despite everything said and done to them over the weeks leading up to tonight, Swagger can't overcome Alberto's righteous anger and he loses without getting too much offense in. Ricardo is still applauding for his tag partner from the outside when things go sharply wrong. Swagger regains control of himself and, fueled by what appears like some righteous indignation of his own, he trips Del Rio and sends him roughly to the mat.

Ricardo's eyes widen once he realizes what's going on and he lunges for the ropes, forgetting his leg, when Colter grabs his crutch out from under him and leaves him balanced precariously by the ring, struggling to hold his footing. All he can do is watch, trying not to fall and risk hurting his bad leg further, as Swagger elbows Alberto in the face and floats over, locking in his ankle lock, wrenching back terribly and falling back against the mat again and again, Del Rio biting his knuckle and yelling out in agony so terribly that it eats at Ricardo, tears filling his eyes as he watches his best friend get decimated more and more with each passing second, unable to do anything with Colter standing in front of him smugly. "No, no, no," he mutters desperately, digging his fingers into his face.

Finally Zeb seems to tire of it all and calls Jack off, ducking into the ring and lifting his arm in success, despite his leaving the arena without the title, Alberto writhing in pain at their feet as he scrabbles at his bad leg. Ricardo struggles to reclaim his crutch, sniffling and nodding in thanks at the tech who kindly hands it over to him. As soon as he's steady on his feet again, he awkwardly enters the ring and hobbles over to his best friend, trying to help by loosening his boot when Alberto clings to his collar, begging him in clipped Spanish to do so. Trainers arrive a minute later, the doctor trying to help, and Ricardo sits next to him, his bad leg stretched out before him while he murmurs apologies and what he hopes is soothing comments repeatedly.

Alberto breathes in deeply as the impromptu examination on his leg comes to an end, the doctor not looking necessarily happy as he guides him out of the ring, another trainer stepping up to help him limp his way up the ramp after he refuses a stretcher, wanting to walk out on his own recognizance. Ricardo hobbles slowly after them, the three title belts weighing his shoulders down but he doesn't complain once, relieved that they still have all three where they belong. Once he's settled in the trainer's office, Alberto motions to Ricardo to join him and the younger man nods, joining him with a quiet sigh. "Lo siento, Alberto-"

"No, no, no apologies, mi amigo," he tells him, reaching over to collect his World title and tag belt so he has less to juggle. Ricardo looks slightly relieved, resting his crutch against a nearby table so he can sit more comfortably next to Del Rio on the cot. "None of this is your fault. You did all you could- and look, despite my ankle issues, we are still tag champions and World champions. Everything will be fine."

But, no matter how desperately Ricardo wants to believe him, this turns out to be false. The very next night, they learn that Dolph Ziggler has been granted his unused rematch for the World title for this evening. Alberto has no choice but to face the challenge, especially since the trainer had hesitantly cleared him to compete, his ankle still painful but nothing seriously wrong with it. Ricardo is a bundle of nerves, biting his lips anxiously until they're bleeding, watching him prepare and wishing his own ankle was well enough that he could pace, or move, do something to drain some of his anxiety away. But he can't, forced to sit still and watch until it's time for them to go out for the match. Which goes about as well as they'd quietly feared, Ziggler being in much better shape after the night before leaving Alberto on the defensive, unable to accomplish much in the way of offense. Ricardo can do nothing but watch, ignoring AJ and Big E's reactions, as Ziggler eventually defeats Del Rio, taking the World title away from him.

A defeated Mexican aristocrat rolls towards where Ricardo is waiting, the younger man struggling to support him and not drop his crutch all at the same time, tears filling his eyes as he takes in the dazed disbelief in his friend's face. "Alberto-"

This more than anything blinks _some_ awareness back to him and he looks around at the arena, the ring, his rival holding up the World title. He licks his lips and squeezes Ricardo's shoulder. "Let's get out of here," he says simply, his eyes dark and unfocused as Ricardo abides, helping him up the ramp numbly.

Alberto is disturbingly quiet that night, the next day, on and on until Smackdown, when he seems to shake himself off and prepare to fight all over again to regain his title. Ricardo supports him as best as he can until he's finally told that his ankle is healed, desperate to make up for his hand in Alberto having to wrestle two matches at Wrestlemania leading to his injury and loss to Ziggler. When Vickie Guerrero places him in a triple threat match against Big E and Zeb Colter, with the winner determining what stipulation the triple threat match at Extreme Rules will have, he agrees eagerly.

He's not sure how exactly Alberto finds out, it being the first match on the card, Vickie having just made the announcement but he's standing at gorilla, hopping around to loosen some of his tension, gingerly testing his ankle out, when he hears familiar footsteps behind him and turns to find Del Rio smiling slightly at him, examining his feet- for the first time out of that protective boot for the first time in months. "Mi amigo," he says. "It's good to see you're cleared to compete... but this? As your first match? Against Big E and Colter?" He runs his fingers through his hair before facing Ricardo once more, dropping his hands on his shoulders and squeezing lightly. "I have no doubt you will easily defeat Colter, but E... even I had difficulty with him. If you were injured all over again..."

Ricardo smiles and shakes his head, determination in his dark eyes. "No, no, Alberto. I will be fine. Besides, I owe you this chance to select what kind of match you will compete in at Extreme Rules. After all," he adds in a slightly quieter tone of voice, "if not for me, you wouldn't have lost the World title to begin with."

Del Rio's eyes soften. "Ricardo, I've told you that wasn't your fault. Swagger is a sore loser, no one could've imagined what would've come out of it. I don't blame you, you shouldn't either. It was my match, my loss." He claps Ricardo's tag title with a smirk. "I'll be out there to keep an eye on things. I can't have my tag partner get injured on my behalf, now can I? Besides, I am sure Swagger and Ziggler will be out there for the same reasons. Now come... let's get this show on the road."

It's as messy as Alberto had expected, the three men not in the match eventually falling into a brawl as he struggles to keep the match in the ring fair for Ricardo, who does win, Del Rio ecstatic as he scrambles away from Swagger and Ziggler, grabbing his best friend's arm and raising it happily. He ultimately decides on a table match but this never comes to pass, Ziggler suffering a concussion not long afterwards and getting taken out of the title match. No one in WWE is thrilled at this change of plans, so the General Managers appear eager to make the title scene simpler, throwing Swagger and Del Rio in an I Quit match at the PPV to determine the new #1 contender for Ziggler's title, as soon as he'll be cleared.

Ricardo looks disappointed that Alberto won't be able to compete the match he had selected, but it's of no consequence to the other man, almost more eager to hear Swagger scream I QUIT I QUIT to his armbar than merely sending him through a table. "It'll be fine," he tells the former ring announcer with a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. But things grow even more complicated when The Shield, who had been on the sidelines this entire time, clearly waiting for a prime opportunity when they weren't wrapped up in six-man matches with various combinations of the WWE's biggest stars, challenge for the tag belts at Extreme Rules as well. Upon learning of yet another PPV where he'd have to wrestle twice, Alberto's only consolation is, at least this time, Ricardo will be healthy enough to wrestle by his side, take a third of the responsibility off of his shoulders.

The night of the event, they meet at gorilla and Ricardo forces a smile, staring at Alberto's shoulder, where his tag title belt resides. He had feared this night since The Shield targetted him, only barely falling into a state of denial, trying to convince himself that they had forgotten Roman's words that cold December night, until they had actually laid down this challenge. He's not sure what to be most fearful of- that they'd lose these titles, or that this match would ruin Del Rio's chances of getting his World title back. "I hope so."

"I know so." Del Rio pats his face. "Come, mi amigo. Let's go." They walk side by side out to the ring, Alberto growing more serious with each step. By the time they're inside, he's completely focused and in the zone, Ricardo giving him space so he doesn't ruin his concentration. When the Shield's music hits and they begin their slow trek to the ring, Alberto backs up to stand by Ricardo's side, surprising the younger man. Both are relieved when Ambrose leaves after accompanying the other two to the steps, Roman and Reigns more than enough of a challenge without trying to pay attention to the man on the outside.

"Let me start," Ricardo says quietly, glancing over at Alberto as Seth takes position in their corner, Roman slipping behind the ropes to watch. "I'll try to compete as long as possible so you stay fresh for your own match."

"Ricardo, you don't have to do that," Alberto tells him, shaking his head. "This is our match, mi amigo. We can do this, together. Both matches."

Ricardo smiles but insists, refusing to leave the ring, Alberto giving in and ducking behind the tag rope after a few moments. The younger man watches as Seth shifts and adjusts his gloves, sneering over at the former ring announcer. Ricardo takes a deep breath and ventures closer, holding his hands in front of him defensively. They lock up but Seth loses patience in it quickly, sweeping his legs out from under him and bodily pushing him against the mat, diving his knee into his chest to wind him before catching him in a necklock, drawing even more breath from his body and keeping him from taking more in. Ricardo, struggling to remain aware, keep focus for a potential moment to free himself, stares at Alberto, watches as he paces on the apron, clapping to get the audience behind his tag partner.

The focus on his former employer, his desperation to not disappoint him or the crowd of people supporting him, breathes some life back into Ricardo and he begins to struggle, trying to fight out of the hold. When he gets enough room to elbow Seth in the face, it angers the man and he snaps Ricardo face first into the mat, rolling away to kick him between the shoulderblades when he sits up. Ricardo arches up and away, crying out, as Seth snarls and dives for Roman, tagging him in. Ricardo rolls over and forces himself to his feet, staring at Roman warily. "Mi amigo!" Alberto yells at him, holding a hand out for the tag, but when their eyes meet, he can tell- the younger man is determined to not make him compete much of this match, holding back even as Roman comes in like a freight train, immediately overpowering him and slamming him to the mat, wrenching back on his arms before he digs a knee into his spine.

Ricardo bites his lip and tries to breathe through the grinding pain of bone on bone, until Reigns forces him to his feet and sidewalk slams him into the mat, winding him all over again. Roman bodily forces him to his feet and he wavers a moment, trying to regain himself, when Reigns dives at him yet again. Ricardo takes a breath and drops, the larger man hitting the mat and rolling through the fall, giving him just enough time to make it to his corner, reluctantly tagging Alberto in. Del Rio rushes at Reigns and exchanges punches with him, slowly losing steam, before he grips his arm and slams it against his knees, taking any opportunity to gain control back. But Roman doesn't allow it, clotheslining him sharply before turning back to Seth and slapping hands with him, letting him have a go at Del Rio. He starts off by dropkicking the older Mexican, sending him back to the mat.

All Ricardo can do is watch, struggling to regain control of himself, when Seth makes the first cover, managing a two count. The former ring announcer breathes a little easier when Del Rio makes it to his feet, rubbing his chest momentarily before he greets Seth with a kick to the chest, another to the arm and a third to the face. Seth is rocking on the first two, then collapses to his knees on the third, an enziguiri greeting him and downing him the rest of the way. Ricardo grins as the tide turns in their favor, Alberto focusing his offense from here on Seth's arm, trying to set him up for his favored armbar. However, Roman appears to be waiting for just that because, as soon as Del Rio is twisting around him, locking his legs around him to wrench his arm back, the larger man storms into the ring and easily kicks him off, sending him away from Rollins. Alberto tries to regroup just to get caught up in a bodyslam, his entire frame rattling as Ricardo slips into the ring and tries to help, kicking Roman as hard as he can. The taller man freezes then turns around, glaring Ricardo down until he rushes for him with a growl, gripping him by the collar and slinging him over to land awkwardly next to Alberto.

Seth regroups and stands up, joining Roman in raining punches and kicks upon the downed tag team champions, both of them trying to cover up doing very little to ease in the damage they're taking. Ricardo groans and grimaces, turning his head to look at Del Rio. Their eyes lock and the older man nods sharply, moving in sync as they lunge up and punch the two Shield members wherever they can reach, eventually getting the upperhand and fighting their way back to their feet. The four of them exchange punches and kicks until finally, finally, Alberto accomplishes a sharp kick against Roman's skull, staggering him, as Ricardo snaps Seth's arm against his shoulder, sending him back as well. They continue fighting side by side until the referee warns to disqualify them both, Roman and Ricardo reluctantly return to their corners, allowing Seth and Alberto to continue.

Del Rio has had the advantage against Seth for a few minutes, the man down on the mat gasping, when he turns and tags Ricardo in, pleasantly surprising him. He enters the ring and immediately kicks Rollins, chancing a glance at Reigns before he focuses fully on him, kneeing him in the face and following it up with a dropkick square in the chest. Seth gasps and sputters, rubbing at his midsection, before Ricardo tries a cover, getting a two count. Seth fights back to his feet, kneeing Ricardo in the face as he takes a running start at the other man, staggering him. Alberto shifts uncomfortably as Seth wraps an arm around the younger man's throat in a facelock, backflipping over him to DDT him into the mat, dazing him. He floats over into a cover, the ref busy counting when Roman enters the ring and goes for Alberto, kicking him in the knees and sending him off of the apron. Reigns turns in time to see Seth accomplish the three count, smirking as their victory is ensured, the tag titles now theirs. He stomps on Del Rio's head once more before rolling into the ring, Ambrose joining them shortly. Reigns tugs a still limp Ricardo to his feet and puts him in place for the triple powerbomb, Dean and Seth aiding as they slam him into the mat with as much force as possible.

Alberto pulls himself up by the apron, looking in the ring at his downed best friend as the new tag team champions pose overhead, their fists held together to show their unity. He groans and rests his face against the cool fabric, catching his breath as the three men leave the ring, allowing him to struggle inside to check on Ricardo. "Mi amigo," he breathes, resting his hand on his shoulder and shaking him lightly. "Mi amigo? Open your eyes, Ricardo."

Trainers and doctor arrive as he slowly stirs, face turned towards Alberto. "We lost," he breathes after a moment, the words slurred and weak.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine," he whispers, brushing his fingers through Ricardo's hair. "Let's let the doctor look you over and make sure you're alright, si?" The initial examination leaves the man's brows furrowing as he directs the trainers in helping Ricardo out of the ring and to his feet, walking him up the ramp to his office to look him over more thoroughly. Alberto hates himself for having to leave as soon as the former ring announcer is settled and being tended to, but his match is coming up very soon and he knows that the younger man would never forgive him if he risked missing it by staying for too long in this room.

So he goes. And he competes. And he defeats Swagger, taking out all of his aggravation for the last few months on him. Tension eases from his shoulders as soon as he registers the three count, laughing and grinning as he holds his hand up in victory, releasing a faint breath. The only thing that would've made this moment better would've been his best friend by his side so he hops off of the second rope and takes off for a quick walk to the backstage, returning to the trainer's office to find Ricardo sitting up, still looking a little groggy but better than earlier. He smiles slightly and joins him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Mi amigo. I won."

Ricardo makes a soft hmming sound, looking up at him. "I'm happy for you, mi amigo." Alberto grins and pulls back, looking around for the trainer. "He says I'm going to be ok, I just need to rest tonight and come see him again in the morning to make sure he hadn't missed anything."

"Well, rest we can do," Alberto nods. "When you're ready to leave, let me know."

"I will." They sit quietly for a minute until Ricardo looks up at him. "Eh, Alberto... I understand you're going to be busy working to get your World title back, but..."

Alberto knows what he's thinking about, looking down at his hands for a moment. "Mi amigo, I know that we have a rematch for the tag titles in the contracts, but..." He looks back up and stares into Ricardo's worried eyes. "It's not fair to you any longer... to be frank, it wasn't fair to you from the beginning. I have almost always been distracted with my own ambitions and our tag title reign suffered for it. I hope you won't hold it against me."

"No, never," Ricardo whispers. "We wouldn't have been tag champions without you, after all. And when I was so hurt, you defended them on your own... you underestimate yourself as my tag partner. I couldn't have asked for a better one."

The Mexican aristocrat smiles and shakes his head, never quite able to get over Ricardo's selflessness. "Maybe so, amigo, but I believe... we should just hold off on the rematch. As we know thanks to Ziggler, these things don't expire, so we can go for them at any point in the future, but for now I feel like I should put all of my focus on the World title... and you can concentrate on your own career for the first time."

Ricardo takes a breath before nodding. "Alright, Alberto, if that's how you feel, I understand." He hesitates and picks at his wrestling gear before looking back up at him. "We... um."

"What, mi amigo?"

"That." He shrugs. "I mean, we... we'll still be friends, si? That's, that's the most important thing to me-"

"Of course we will!" Alberto exclaims, looking surprised at his even having to ask. "These past few months have been difficult, but with you by my side, I made it through, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. I understand I made many mistakes over the years, and I don't blame you for doubting me, but I promise you I'll never be that man again. We will always be friends, Ricardo."

Ricardo grins, looking relieved and happy. "Gracias, mi mejor amigo." As Alberto shifts to sit down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, he hums thoughtfully, turning his focus to the road ahead, his solo career. "Do you think... I would make a good US or Intercontinental champion?"

Alberto doesn't even hesitate. "Anything you want to try, you'd be good at, mi amigo. I have no doubt." He grins too, reflecting on how things had changed since he had won the tag titles on behalf of Ricardo all of those months ago. He had meant every word spoken earlier.

Except to spare Ricardo some of the pain he'd suffered over the last few months, he wouldn't change a second of the road it took to regain their friendship.


End file.
